


Kodak Moment - an LLI side story

by Terri Botta (Isilwath)



Series: Let Love In [2]
Category: Southern Vampire Mysteries - Charlaine Harris
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-26
Updated: 2013-06-26
Packaged: 2017-12-16 06:49:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/859133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isilwath/pseuds/Terri%20Botta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Monday Night photoshoot for Fangtasia's nude calendar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

  
       “What does someone wear to a nude photoshoot?” she asked thoughtfully.

       “Preferably something easy to remove?” Eric suggested.

       She snorted, trying not to look at him because she knew what she’d see: her Viking lover, all 6’4”of him, sprawled naked on his massive bed. He’d be propped up on one elbow, his leg lifted to tilt his hip just so to display his “assets,” which were impressive even when they were off duty, so to speak. His long hair would be a cascade of gold spilling across the fine quality Egyptian cotton sheets, and his sacred Thor’s Hammer would be dangling just over his left nipple. Her mouth started watering just thinking about him lying there, and she clenched her fists so she wouldn’t get back into bed with him.

       It didn’t help that they’d already enjoyed a round of lovemaking, and she was still naked under her warm, fluffy robe.

       “I’m not the one who is going to be photographed,” she replied,

       He sighed dramatically. “I know. It’s such a pity. You are a cruel mistress to refuse me such a small thing.”

       She snorted again as she dug through the selection of clothing she’d brought with her from her house. It was cold out, but she’d only packed skirts – per her lover’s preferences – so she ended up choosing a long denim one and a light blue sweater.

       “Mmmmm,” she heard him purr appreciatively.  It did irritating things to her libido.

 _‘Why don’t you come back over here and pay attention to me?’_  came Eric’s sultry mind voice, followed by a wave of desire in the bond.

       “Because I’ve already paid attention to you once already,” she countered.

       “Is there a limit to the number of times you’ll have sex with me on a single night?”

       “No. But we have other things to do. You have that photoshoot, and you have to go to Fangtasia to do paperwork, and I need to eat…” she reminded.

       “I need to eat too.”

       “You already ate.”

       “That was just a snack. I’m ready for my full meal.”

       “You’re always ready.”

       “Of course. And so are you. You want me to eat you. You love it when I bite you, when I  ** _lick_**  you…”

       His words went straight to the muscles of her lower abdomen and even lower.

       “Eric…”

       “Come to me, my lover. I can feel your need. Let me… satisfy you,” he crooned, his voice pure sex. She shivered down to her toes.

       “If I do, will  ** _you_**  be satisfied?”

       “Never.”

       She groaned, but he wasn’t going to give in. He could feel her growing arousal through the bond, and he was already tasting victory. She felt like a poor little fly getting seduced by the spider. Come, my love, and let me suck you dry…

       Eric sniggered, but continued beckoning.

_‘Apt imagery, my lover, but I have only two arms and both are empty.’_

       She didn’t know why she was resisting. She knew how it was going to end: with her on the bed, legs open and her Viking between them, so really what was the point in putting up a fight? Maybe it was just her nature to be contrary, maybe she enjoyed the illusion of being able to say no to him, or maybe she just liked being seduced – Eric could be very convincing when he wanted to be,

       “What will it take, my lover, to get you to drop the robe and come back to bed?”

       She raised her eyes to look at his reflection in his dresser mirror. He’d moved the piece of furniture so that they could see each other from the bed – a sort of stopgap measure until the ceiling mirror was installed – and she could see him clearly in the polished surface. It was her downfall.

       He was there, arranged just as she had imagined, only he had one hand between his legs, wrapped around that part of him as he stroked himself. He was fully erect, ready, and staring hungrily at her. She practically shook with need at the sight of him, and his lips pulled back into a sexy smile that was just the end of her.

       As she stood frozen, staring at his reflection, she watched as he rose gracefully from the bed and came up behind her. His eyes fixed on hers in the mirror, his fangs fully down, she saw his hands come up to slide the robe from her shoulders as his lips kissed the base of her neck. And then she was naked in the mirror, her nipples hard as he brushed his fingers lightly across them. She might have moaned.

       “Don’t close your eyes, lover,” he murmured as he gently urged her to bend over the dresser, slipping two fingers into her to test her readiness.

       If she’d been any more ready, she would have spontaneously combusted, and she obeyed his request as she watched him mount her. His blue eyes were intense, and he was pressing the tip of his tongue to his bottom lip, as he moved within her slowly, so slowly. The second time was always slower than the first because they’d taken the edge off already and could just enjoy it, but sometimes his slow pace was maddening. She groaned and pushed back, trying to urge him on. His smile in the mirror was deadly.

       “What’s the rush, my lover?” he cooed, licking her throat as one hand reached up to fondle her breast.

       Seeing him, watching his every move as they made love, was an amazing turn on, and she couldn’t tear her eyes away from his face, his eyes, his expressions as he rode her. Her own mouth was slightly open, her skin flushed, the breast not cradled by his hand was pressed against the top of the dresser. There was a bead of sweat on her forehead. Eric saw it and licked it away quickly.

       “I love the taste of you,” he purred. “I think I will have you now.”

       With that, he pulled out of her, turned her around and pushed her down to the mattress. She turned her head to keep watching in the mirror as he knelt between her legs and began to use his mouth and fingers on her.  Her body jerked, her raised knees trembling as his tongue worked its magic on her, and she saw her spine arch and her jaw drop as he bit her, sending her over the edge into blissful release.

       Her entire body blushed pink in the aftermath, the sheen of sweat making her skin shiny in the mirror, and she watched herself spread her legs wider as he lifted up and pressed into her again. Erotic, so erotic, to see him as they made love, to witness in the silvered glass how his body moved, how hers responded in a counter rhythm. It was so enthralling to see that she felt like a woman under a spell – a spell of her own casting as she watched her and Eric starring in their own erotic scene.

       “Eric…”

       “Yes, my little voyeur?” he purred, thrusting into her, tossing his long hair and his Hammer over his shoulder so it wouldn’t fall in her face.

       She groaned and watched as her hands slid down to cup his ass and pull him deeper. They both grunted as he clenched those perfect cheeks and shoved harder. Her thighs shook, her heels balanced on the backs of his knees, her chest heaved. He bent down to nip her nipple, the one further away from the mirror so he could turn his head a little and watch himself suckling from her breast. Watching him, watching her, watching each other, their bodies entwined, his hand reached for hers and she laced their fingers together, a metaphor for how their bodies were meshed into each other.

       He drew more blood as he rode her steadily, knowing exactly how she wanted it, and she climaxed again, seeing her expressions change as she built, then crested and came down. He wasn’t far behind her, his lips pulling back, his eyes burning, then the wave of pleasure that crossed his face as he came, his thighs taut, his ass tight, his toes curled as he shuddered. She loved to see those toes curling. It was cute.

        _‘Cute? Nothing about me is **cute** , my lover,’_ he said, grinning as he kissed her and disengaged, gathering her up and curling with her, his eyes still on their reflections in the mirror.

        _‘Your toes are cute,’_  she corrected, loving how they looked with their arms and legs wrapped around each other.

_‘They are not. They are warrior toes. They have walked millions of miles and seen many battles. They are hardened soldiers.’_

       She started laughing and couldn’t stop, and even that was a joy to watch because his face lit up and he started tickling her with his fingers.

       “Stop! Stop!” she begged, squirming, but he had her in a vice grip.

       “Not until you take that back. My toes are not cute.”

       “Ooooh, did I wound the big Viking pride?” she teased, even as he really went for the kill and started tickling the backs of her knees. She was kicking and squealing in no time.

       “Do not anger the mighty Norsemen, we are ruthless and pitiless,” he warned, but he was laughing too.

       “With cute toes!” she cried amid peals of laughter.

       He growled and nibbled on her neck, which made her get quiet real quick, and soon she was lying there, panting, as he nuzzled her.

       “Take it back,” he murmured against her throat.

       “Can’t.”

       He rumbled against her skin. Any sane human would have been terrified, but she’d been crazy all her life, so the fact that a vampire was licking her neck didn’t bother her.

       “Take it back or I’ll find a way to make you do that nude calendar.”

       She huffed. “If you’re so dead set on having a bunch of naked pictures of me, why don’t you just take them yourself?”

       He stopped what he was doing and raised his head to look at her, his eyes wide. She knew in that moment that she was in big, big trouble.

       “My lover, what an  _excellent_  idea! I don’t know why I didn’t think of that myself.”

       “Ulp. Eric…” she began, but he was already moving.

       “C’mon, my lover. Let’s shower and get on our way. I need to feed you, and I want to make a stop before we go to the photographer’s studio.”

       Feeling an overwhelming sense of dread, she followed him to his opulent bathroom to wash off the evidence of their pleasures. She had once thought Bill had had the ultimate bathroom, but then she saw Eric’s and she knew the Viking had put her former beau to shame. She was sure there were some villages in Africa that were smaller than Eric Northman’s bathroom.

 

       Eric had brought her to his south Shreveport house the previous evening, and she had spent her first night in his primary nest. She and Eric had spent Saturday night in Ruston, but she’d had to work the Sunday lunch shift, and afterwards she’d just gone home. Eric had arrived about twenty minutes after sunset, and by then she’d been packed for her two-day stay in Shreveport because both of them had Monday off.

       Her Viking had been almost endearingly nervous about bringing her to his home, and he’d made her close her eyes before they turned onto his street. With the way he’d fussed, he’d reminded her of those little birds that weaved basket nests high up in the trees. The male bird would spend all day building it in order to attract a female, and when he was done he would present the nest to his prospective mate. If the female bird liked it, she’d mate with him. If she didn’t, she’d loosen the basket from the tree and send it crashing to the ground.

       “So… you are comparing me to a stupid little bird who is worried his mate will destroy the home he’s made if she doesn’t like it,” he’d commented with some amusement.

       “Well… maybe just a little.”

       “Are you going to burn my house down if you don’t like it?”

       She’d gasped. “Of course not!”

       “Well then, that’s a good thing to know.”

       “Can I open my eyes now?”

       “No.”

       He hadn’t let her open her eyes until they’d pulled into the driveway, and he’d parked his Corvette in just the right spot to show off the house to its best angle. Considering that it was well after dark when she was seeing it for the first time, she couldn’t make out all that much, but she’d smiled and nodded appreciatively which seemed to please Eric to no end. He’d strutted and preened the rest of the evening – the happy male who didn’t get his nest smashed to pieces.

       She had to admit that the house was very nice. It was neither too large nor too small, but a decent sized 4 bedroom home on a wooded lot in a Gated Community. Of course Eric Northman would live in a neighborhood that had security. The guard at the gate had been a Were, one of the Shreveport Pack if she’d placed the face correctly. The exterior was stucco with brick accents at the corners, and the roof was a steeply pitched shingle roof. The house itself was a single floor with well maintained landscaping and a stone patio out back.

       The interior was as Eric had described it: uncluttered and furnished with quality items made with natural materials. All of his furniture was cloth and leather and wood. Her bonded had a deep loathing for anything synthetic or polyester. His carpets, what few he had on the impeccably kept hardwood floors, were natural woven, and the colors were all shades of tans and browns and white. There was a splash of color here and there: a green glass bowl, a blanket throw with shades of red and ochre (that looked Native American), a black iron urn on the mantelpiece.

       There were paintings and framed lithographs hung on the walls, mostly impressionist pieces that were swirls of complementary colors, but there were one or two landscapes, including one of what had to be the Scandinavian coastline during a storm. The violence of nature as the sea pummeled the shoreline was both beautiful and frightening, and she thought that Eric was the much same way – awe inspiring but deadly. He’d been amused to no end by the comparison.

       The sauna he’d been so proud of was built into what must have once been a closet in the den, and he’d showed her the little room with its brazier for the stones and its wooden floor and seats. It had smelled like steam and lava rocks. She’d had no doubts that she’d be experiencing its apparent benefits very soon.

       The bearskin rug he’d told her about was in front of the fireplace in the den, along with numerous weapons all hung on the walls: swords and rifles and axes even a couple of maces. She’d asked him if all of them were the real deal, but he’d just given her one of his wry smiles and asked her what she thought. She didn’t ask again, but she did look more closely at one of the axes, and she thought she saw dried blood on the blade.

       The bearskin itself was impressive. The Kodiak bear must have been massive because its hide stretched almost twelve feet from the gigantic head to the end of the rear paws with their curved, black claws. Eric told her how he had killed the bear with his hands about 200 years ago in Alaska. He’d crossed the Bering Straight from Russia and had encountered the big male on his fifth night there. He described the fight in great detail, telling her how he had come upon the bear and surprised it, and it had turned towards him instead of fleeing. He remembered lugging the body to an Inuit village and offering them the meat in return for tanning of the hide. Since the bear must have weighed over a thousand pounds, the meat had been enough to feed almost everyone in the little settlement.

       He’d told her all of this as he’d laid a fire, and then he’d undressed until he was naked on the rug and every bit the image of the gorgeous warrior he was. She hadn’t been able to resist him, and they’d made love on the bearskin like two characters from a bodice ripper romance novel. It was almost laughable in its predictability, but nothing was amusing about how he’d made her scream and grab the ears on the bear’s head as he drove her wild with pleasure. Now she couldn’t even look at the rug without remembering how they had used it, and the joy and ecstasy she had experienced while on it.

       “How many others have you fucked on this rug?” she’d asked as they cuddled on the rug, their skin warmed by the fire. She knew better than to assume that she was the only one. The skin itself practically screamed, “screw here.”

       “I am not in the habit of bringing bangers into my private nest,” he’d answered. “Very few humans or vampires have ever been in this house.”

       “That doesn’t answer my question.”

       He’d rolled his eyes and gave in, “Three, but not for the reasons you think. There was a time when this rug was all the luxury I had in the world. I’ve worn it. I’ve slept in it. I’ve wrapped my body in it and buried myself in snow banks to shelter from the day. This skin was my clothing, my bedding, and my protection as I crossed Alaska and came down through Canada into the United States. Of course, it wasn’t the United States then, but you get the idea. You, my lover, are the only one I have pleasured on this rug in the safety of this nest. The others… they were my meals.”

       She hadn’t had much to say to that, so she’d just smiled and kissed him and let him pleasure her again. Afterwards, they’d gone to Fangtasia where she had stayed back in his office for a couple of hours while he did paperwork and Pam showed her some of the managerial procedures of the business, then had her fill out the employee forms for her new job as Entertainment Director.

       They’d gone out into the bar and sat together in a booth for a while, until she got tired of the fangbangers trying to seduce her bonded, and he’d let her go back to his office to play on his computer until the bar closed. After having been gone so many nights, he hadn’t felt comfortable taking himself off display so he’d stayed to “enthrall the vermin” as Pam loved to put it. When she’d gotten hungry, food was ordered in and delivered to Fangtasia’s back door.

       Eric had returned to his office at two am more than ready to take her back to his house and make love again – this time on the huge bed in the master bedroom. The room itself was plain with a solid wood dresser and chest of drawers. The bed had a carved wooden headboard and matching footboard, and it was draped with high quality linens and a very warm, brown ultrasuede comforter that was buttery soft. The windows were heavily covered with room darkening blinds and foam backed drapes to block out all light should he choose to spend the day in the bed, but he did have a completely light proof and fireproof secure lair in a fortified room under the eaves of the steep roof, and he’d told her that he would spend most of his days safely tucked away there if they weren’t in Ruston or her home in Bon Temps.

       He had spent the day in the bed, cuddled with her for most of the morning, until she’d gotten up to see to her human needs like using the bathroom (Jesus, Shepherd of Judea, the _bathroom!_ ) and finding food. They’d gone shopping to get things for her to eat while she was there, and she’d whipped herself up a ham and onion omelet and a cup of coffee in his adequate but sparsely equipped kitchen. The house was spotless so she’d spent the day reading and relaxing, until she’d gotten tired and decided to head back to her Viking because he’d be waking in another hour.

       She’d undressed and put on a cotton nightie with a button-up front, and crawled into bed. When she woke, the nightie had already been unbuttoned and removed, and her Viking was licking her breasts happily. He loved waking up with her. Vamps woke hungry and horny, and there she was already in the bed, warm and soft and yummy; his own self-delivered éclair ready for the taking.

       He’d enjoyed her very much.

 

       Which led her to where she was now: twice fucked and showering with her bonded in his cavernous bathroom with its huge soaking tub, standing shower, and double vanity. She was in the shower with him – never a good idea if they were on a timetable – but he was being good and just washing her with only a hint of lewdness. She didn’t know if she should be grateful or scared.

       “Come, lover,” Eric urged as he finger-combed his damp hair and pulled on a pair of black jeans and a T-shirt.

       It was November, the week before Thanksgiving, and he hadn’t even bothered with underwear. She shivered just looking at him as she dressed in a pair of winter weight thigh-highs, plain cotton panties (which she hoped would survive the night), her bra, and the skirt and sweater ensemble she’d previously chosen. They were ready to leave the house by seven-thirty.

       The first stop was food. Since what she ate could often flavor her blood, she was trying to avoid things that would make her blood taste bad or greasy. To that end, Eric took her to a small deli that specialized in whole and natural foods, and she got a grilled chicken wrap in a whole-wheat pita. A larger meal would come later after the photoshoot when he would take her to a restaurant for dinner.

       “You know, I  _can_  cook,” she said as she scarfed down her wrap.

       Sex and blood loss worked up quite an appetite. Eric dug a little vitamin pack out of her purse – grinning when he found the spare pair of underwear she’d stowed in it – and handed it to her to take with her bottled iced tea. Trust someone to come up with supplement combos designed for “willing donors.” There were four capsules in a cellophane packet, each geared towards boosting blood production and replenishing nutrients depleted by bloodletting. Eric kept a supply of them in his office, and he’d grabbed a handful the night before to toss in her purse.

       “I know, and once we settle into our routine, we will know what to keep where, but for now it’s no hardship for me to take you to eat.”

       She started to say something about her former vampire boyfriend, but squelched it. She had promised herself that she would stop comparing Eric to Bill.

       “Thank you,” her bonded commented, obviously picking up on her thoughts.

       Their next stop was, of all places, a Wal-mart not too far away from Alfred Cumberland’s photography studio.

       “What are we getting here?” she asked as she hurried to keep up with him, burrowing down into her cranberry coat to block out the wind.

       Her Viking was excited, practically humming with happiness, and he waved his hand at the electronic doors with a flourish.

       “I love these things,” he commented, grinning, as the doors slid open for him.

       She huffed and skittered into the warmth ahead of him. “It’d be just like you to think that they opened just for you,” she grumbled.

       “The first time I ever saw one of these I was entranced,” he said, still smiling.

       “A Wal-mart?”

       He gave her a look and began walking away. “No, a set of sliding doors. I was absolutely charmed. I went in and out dozens of times.”

       “Because you’re that easily amused.”

       “Ooh, you are in rare form tonight, my lover. Obviously, I haven’t fucked you enough.”

       The elderly couple on their way out gasped, and she blushed beet red, but Eric just laughed and breezed through the store like he owned it. Hell, for all she knew, maybe he  ** _did_**  own it. Whatever, the throngs of shoppers getting ready for the holidays practically tripped over themselves to get out of his way. He didn’t even seem to notice.

       They went directly to electronics, to the camera counter to be specific, and a pimply faced college kid turned three shades of white (almost whiter than Eric) when he saw the vampire at his counter.

       “M-may I he-help you, S-Sir?”

       Eric held himself tall and looked around as if he was bored. “I wish to purchase a camera.”

       “Digital or film, Sir?”

       “Digital,” he answered smoothly. “I want the very best. Professional quality.”

       The kid, his nametag read “Scott,” gulped and showed Eric some of the more expensive camera models ziptied to the display shelves.

       “Here are our high end digital cameras, S-Sir.”

       Eric surveyed them with all the interest of a Cajun cook looking at crawfish.

       “Which is the best?”

       Scott pointed to one model. “A lot of people like the Olympus. It’s got 8 megapixels and it’s easy to use. It’s rated pretty high.”

       She gulped when she saw the price tag. It was almost $1000. Eric didn’t even blink.

       “I’ll take it. Now, what do I need by way of accessories?”

       “Umm, it takes CompactFlash II cards, but it doesn’t come with one, so you’ll need that, and you might want a zoom lens and a tripod…” the kid answered.

       She zoned out when they started discussing camera bags because the price tag had zoomed up far beyond what she made in a month, and little dollar signs were dancing in and out of her vision as Eric kept piling additional items onto the counter. When all was said and done, he had spent close to $2000 on the camera and related equipment, and he left the counter a happy vamp.

       She followed along in a daze as he headed for the exit.

_‘What is wrong, my lover?’_

_‘Eric, you just spent more money in 20 minutes than I make in a month!’_

       He frowned and paused to look down at her, his brows furrowed.  _‘Does the shifter pay you so little?’_

_‘Eric, most of my salary comes from tips.’_

       His frown grew deeper.  _‘The clientele in Bon Temps must be cheap. Our human waitresses clear $400 on an average night.’_

       Her eyes nearly bugged out of her head. “ ** _$400!_** ” she blurted. That was more than she’d made in tips on New Year’s Eve.

       He shrugged. “On an average night. Weekends they can clear up to $600.”

       Obviously she was waitressing at the wrong bar.

_‘I’ve been trying to tell you that for two years.’_

       By now people were starting to notice the 6’4” Viking vampire standing in the middle of Wal-mart, and most were giving him a wide berth, but a few were openly staring. It made her very uncomfortable, but Eric just shook his head and started walking towards the exit again. He was thinking that it was no wonder that she was always short on funds if she made so little.

       “Well, you know that you will be handsomely compensated for your work at Fangtasia. That should alleviate some of your financial burden,” he said as they walked side-by-side down the white-tiled aisle.

       Anyone who knew anything about vampire behavior would know that a human and a vamp walking alongside each other was unusual, and her position at his elbow marked her as someone of importance to him.

       “Yes, and you know I will earn every penny you pay me.”

       He nodded. “Of course. I would expect no less from you, my lover. I have always admired your work ethic.”

        _‘And your play ethic,’_  he added with a gleam in his eyes.

       She wanted to elbow him but decided against it.

       They were passing by the ladies department, and of course they had the obligatory Santa themed lingerie hanging out on display. Eric saw it and grinned. He lifted a red teddy trimmed with white fluff and held it up for her perusal. She crossed her arms and gave him a bland look.

       “It’s you,” she deadpanned.

       He grinned and picked up a second teddy, holding one above the other because that was how many it took to cover his long torso, then he looked at her for her opinion. She had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing, especially when he waggled his eyebrows at her.

       “Buy four, they’re cheap,” she said.

       He looked more closely at the teddies and frowned in disapproval. “Cheap being the operative word. The quality of these things is crap,” he commented, putting them back on the rack.

       “Somehow I don’t think the person who is supposed to wear that is too worried about how well it’ll hold up.”

       He gave her a cocky smile and shrugged. “Good lingerie should be sexy, versatile, and durable.”

       “Since you know so much about it, why don’t you open your own store? Pam could run it with you. She could be in charge of the leather section.”

       For the second time that evening, his eyes lit up like a kid in a candy store, and she felt that sinking feeling again.

       “My lover, once again you stun me with your business sense and ability to think outside the box. Will you be our model for the new merchandise?”

       She didn’t grace that with an answer, but she could hear his mental laughter through the bond, and it made her giggle herself.

       “C’mon, we need to get to Al’s,” she sighed and headed for the exit.


	2. Chapter Two

_Chapter Two_

 

 

       They arrived at Alfred Cumberland’s studio ten minutes before Eric’s scheduled 8:30pm posing time, but Al was ready for him when they came in. Sookie recognized the place from when she had been there before with Claude in what seemed like a lifetime ago. The studio was on the first floor of a three-story building, and Al and his wife lived in the apartment above.

       “Miss Stackhouse, how wonderful to see you again. Will you be posing with Mr. Northman?” the heavyset black man greeted with a nervous smile. He was thinking that he didn’t do co-ed nudes.

       “Ah, no,” she stammered, flushing.

       “She is here merely for her female input,” her Viking replied, but gave her a curious look. “You’ve been here before, my lover?”

       “Yes, Miss Stackhouse was here with a male fairy. The one who owns the strip club Hooligan’s. Claude Crane. He needed some pictures taken for a modeling portfolio.”

       She gave him a worried look, recalling all too vividly her photoshoot with her fairy cousin. Eric’s eyebrows went up into his hair.

       “Oh  _really?_  How very  _interesting_. I would dearly love to see some of those proofs,” Eric stated.

       “I’m sure I have some of them in one of my sample books,” the middle-aged man said. “As I recall, many of them were rather suggestive.”

       Al clearly must be going senile if he thought a comment like that was appropriate in front of a vampire. Vampires wrote the book on possessive, and it was obvious to anyone with eyes that she and Eric were a couple.

       “Do tell?” her Viking continued, sounding terribly interested – emphasis on terrible.

       She grabbed his arm and gave him a cheek-cracking smile. “Eric! Claude wanted pictures for his  _Mr. Romance_  competition entry. You know, the contest held by the  _Romantic Times Bookclub_  every year.”  _‘Besides, you know he’s gay! And he’s my **cousin!** ’_

_‘And that means exactly what here in the South?’_

If she could have kicked him, she would have. Al came to the rescue by reminding them of why they were there.

       “So Mr. Northman, will you be Mr. January again this year, or would you prefer to choose a different month?”

        _‘Don’t think I’ve forgotten about the fairy thing, lover…’_  “I was thinking perhaps I’d be Mr. December this time around, a save the best for last sort of thing,” he replied with a winning smile.

       She groaned and rolled her eyes.  _‘Ego much? I’m not sure if I’ll be able to stay in the same room with you and your big head.’_

_‘It’s not ego, it’s self-confidence.’_

_‘Is that what they’re calling it these days?’_

       “Mr. December is a good idea. Did you want a… ah… holiday scene maybe?” Al asked.

       “You mean like a Christmas-themed picture?”

       The photographer opened his hands and shrugged. “Something like that. I do have a set prepared for… uh… seasonal portraits.”

       “Did Vikings have a winter celebration?” she questioned suddenly, curious. She knew from books that she’d read that many of the Christmas traditions were actually quite older than Christianity.

       Eric nodded. “Oh yes. It was called Jol. It was a winter feast held on the solstice. We brewed special dark beers just for the season called Juleoel, and we would drink ourselves into a stupor.”

       She raised an eyebrow. “Y’all had a drunken beerfest.”

       He grinned. “Basically. It was considered an insult if you didn’t get drunk on Jol. It implied that the host’s beer wasn’t good enough.”

       She rolled her eyes and shook her head.

_‘You **did**  ask…’_

_‘And you did answer. Bluntly. Thank you.’_

_‘Would you have liked me to make up some fancy story about some special romantic tradition involving lights and food and the exchange of gifts?’_

_‘Did you have something like that?’_

_‘After we sobered up. Which might have been a few days after Jol. It depended on how good the beer was.’_

       She snorted, holding back the laugh that wanted to escape. It was bad enough that Al was giving them an odd look. She was about to say something as a joke, like maybe the pose could be Eric in front of a Christmas Tree wearing a Santa hat and a present obscuring his kit n’ kaboodle, when they heard a little gasp come from somewhere behind them.

       Eric whirled and in doing so revealed a young girl of maybe thirteen or fourteen years of age, staring wide-eyed at her 6’4” Viking.

       “Oh,” the girl blurted.

       “Well, hello,” Eric said, smiling. “And who might you be?”

       “That’s my niece, Kathleen. She and her mother are… visiting from Minneapolis for the holidays.”

       He didn’t say they were there because his sister’s marriage had ended, and it was their first year as a divorced couple, but he didn’t have to. Sookie picked it up right out of his mind, and she felt sorry for the teen because it was obvious that the absence of her father was painful.

       “She’s been helping me in the studio. Kathy, this is Mr. Northman and Miss Stackhouse.”

       “Hi, pleased to meet you,” the girl answered politely. She was a doe-eyed, round-faced teen with skin the color of rich coffee and long, curly black hair. A bit on the plump side, but not fat, and she was staring open-mouthed at Eric. Her Viking saw a fangbanger in the making and turned on the charm.

       “Well, aren’t you sweet?” he smoothed, smiling. He might have even batted his eyes at her, but Sookie was too busy hiding her face behind her hand to look.

       Kathleen ate it up like candy and took an eager step forward, her hands clasped to her chest. “Are you really a vampire?”

       “Oh yes,” he answered.

       “Do you have fangs?”

       “Of course, all vampires have fangs, my dear.”

       “Edward Cullen doesn’t have fangs,” Kathy countered.

       “Kathy!” Al scolded, but the teen just gave her uncle a sour look.

        _‘She’s thinking of some book called Twilight. Have you heard of it?’_  she asked.

       Eric mentally rolled his eyes.  _‘Oh yes. I’ve heard of it.’_

       “Yes, well, Edward Cullen is a fictional character. I’m the real deal,” her vampire replied and dropped down his fangs.

       The girl gasped, then grinned from ear to ear. “Wicked.” She came closer, her eyes as wide as saucers. “Can I touch them?”

       “Kathy!” Al said a little more forcefully, but Eric just smiled and waved his hand a little to show that he didn’t mind.

       “You may, however, you must get my mate’s permission first. As my bonded, my body belongs to her, and you must ask her if it is acceptable for you to touch me,” her extremely  _self-confident_  vampire all but purred, indicating her standing right next to him.

       Jesus, Shepherd of Judea, he was laying it on thick, and she would have burst out laughing if the teen hadn’t made goo-goo, pleading eyes at her.

       “You’re his mate?” the kid asked.

       She nodded.

       “Can I touch his fangs, please?”  _‘Pleasepleasepleaseplease.’_

       She shrugged. “Knock yourself out. But careful, they’re really sharp.”

       Eric lowered himself into the nearest seat, which turned out to be a high-backed leather chair that was part of one of Al’s “sets,” and invited Kathleen to approach. The teen hurried over, her hands clenching and unclenching as Eric opened his mouth and allowed her to run a finger over his long, retractable canines. The girl was a quivering mass of vampire, hero-worshipping hormones, and Sookie was worried she was going to faint from sheer excitement. Al just shook his head. He was thinking that his sister and his wife were going to kill him.

       “My friends back home are never gonna believe this. They’re never gonna believe I met a real live vampire!” Kathy gushed.

       Sookie raised an eyebrow at the “live” part, but didn’t comment.

       “How about we have your uncle take a picture of the two of us together for you to take back home with you,” Eric suggested. “You don’t mind, do you, my lover?”

       He looked innocently at her, and she rolled her eyes again, then she shook her head. It was obvious that it would make the kid happy, and Eric was just basking in the adoration.

       Kathleen gasped and whirled to face her uncle. “Oh, Uncle Al, can we? Can we please?”

       Al looked decidedly uncomfortable. “Well, I don’t know, Kathy. Mr. Northman is a very busy man, and I don’t know if we should take up his time. I am sure he has other things he has to do tonight.”

       Eric smiled one of his most winning smiles. In fact, if he’d smiled at her like that the first night she’d met him at Fangtasia, she might just have jumped him then, Bill or no Bill.

        _‘Oh **really?**_ _I knew you weren’t his. I just knew it,’_  her “mate” replied with amusement, then spoke aloud, “Nonsense. I always have time for a curious, sweet young girl.”

       Kathleen was in raptures. “Oh please, please, please, Uncle Al. Please?”

       Eric just smiled and looked expectantly at the middle-aged photographer. “We have time, don’t we? Or do you have another appointment after mine?”

       It was the way Eric asked the question that set off the alarm bells, and for the first time since he’d started schmoozing the teen, she began to wonder if he had ulterior motives.

        _‘What’s your game?’_  she asked.

_‘Patience, my lover, all will be revealed in time…’_

       “No. You’re my only sitting tonight. I always clear my schedule for… ah… vampires,” Al replied a little nervously.

       Eric nodded. “A wise move. So that means we have plenty of time to indulge your lovely niece, yes?”

       Al sighed, thinking that while his sister might kill him figuratively, she wouldn’t kill him  _literally_ , and thus, that death was the lesser of two evils.

       “All right. Let me get the lights and camera set up,” the man agreed, defeated.

       Kathy squealed loud enough to make Eric cringe and ran to hug her uncle with enthusiasm. “Thank you, Uncle Al. Thank you, thank you!”

       “Would there on that chair be okay, Mr. Northman?” Al asked.

       “Oh yes. It’s perfectly fine. Is it alright with you, Kathleen, my dear?” Eric replied, giving the teen another winning smile.

       “Oh yes, yes. It’s great!”

       “Well, then, get the lights ready, Kathy, and we’ll get set up,” Al said.

       “I need to put on some make-up!” the teen whined.

       Al shook his head and dismissed the girl. “Okay, I can get things ready here myself.”

       Kathleen was gone in a flash.

       “Thank you, Mr. Northman. You’re really being too kind to her.”

       “Nonsense, Alfred. You know I love having my photograph taken,” Eric reminded, settling back onto the chair. He was the very picture of physical ease.

       “Still. I do appreciate it. I doubt if my sister will, but I do. It’s Kathy’s first Thanksgiving and Christmas without her dad, and she’s having a hard time.”

       “I understand. These holiday seasons are all about family for you humans, and she is missing an important member. It is only reasonable that she would be unhappy. I am glad to do some small thing to make her feel better,” her Viking smoothed.

       He sounded so sincere that even  ** _she_**  almost believed him.  _‘Damn you’re good. No wonder you went into vampire politics.’_

_‘I can bullshit with the best of them, my lover.’_

       “Oh, she’ll be talking about this for months, I assure you.”

       They waited while Kathy put on make-up or whatever she was doing upstairs in the apartment above the studio. Alfred set up his camera and satellite dish lights on the set, and she and Eric just hung around. He was still seated, but he reached for her hand and held it, his face turned up to her, his lips in a gentle smile. She did notice, however, that he was keenly aware of what the photographer was doing and paying very close attention to the goings on around him.

_‘What was that bit with telling her she needed to ask my permission to touch you?’_  she asked.

_‘It’s true. You are my mate. No one can touch me personally without your say so. I can shake hands and such, but anything more intimate than that, I must seek your approval first,’_  he answered.

_‘Really?’_

_‘Really.’_

_‘I didn’t know that.’_

       He nodded.  _‘Now you do.’_

       She thought on that for a few moments as Eric watched Alfred setting up the camera.

       “Have you gone digital?” her vampire asked.

       Alfred nodded. “Oh yes. It’s so much easier. No film. No developing chemicals. I can show my clients their proofs instantly. Digital’s been a godsend.”

       Eric nodded, his eyes following Alfred’s every move with interest.

       She looked away a little.  _‘That was the first time that you ever said that I was your mate in public.’_

       He tore his eyes away from the photographer and blinked up at her. With him seated and her standing, it was one of the only times she stood higher than him.

_‘I called you my mate on Isle Elena, and I told you that I would introduce you as my mate on Wednesday night. We are bonded. You **are**  my mate. Do you not wish me to call you by that term?’_

       He seemed a little wounded, and she hurried to reassure him.  _‘No. No, it’s fine.’_

_‘I am glad to hear that, because I take great pleasure in calling you my mate.’_

       She smirked.  _‘You take great pleasure in calling me anything.’_

_‘Of course, especially your name as I come inside you.’_

       She choked a bit, but hid it behind a fake cough.

       “Are you all right, my lover?” her Viking asked innocently.

       “Fine. Just tried to breathe and swallow at the same time.”

       “Ah. I don’t have that problem.”

       She stuck her tongue out at him, but he just smirked.  _‘Don’t stick your tongue out at me unless you intend to use it.’_

       Her eyes went wide, but he just leered at her.

       “Okay, I’m ready,” Kathleen announced, hurrying back into the studio. She’d brushed out her hair and put on some lipstick and mascara. “How do I look?”

       “Good enough to eat,” her Viking vampire assured her, earning him a shocked gasp.

       “That’s a compliment,” Sookie hurried to clarify.

       “Oh.”

       “Yes. A vampire of my stature won’t bite just anybody, you know,” Eric confirmed, preening a little.

       Kathleen beamed and turned to her uncle. “Are we ready, Uncle Al?”

       “Yep, all set.”

       The teen approached Eric nervously. “Umm, ahh, where do you want me?”

       That question was loaded.

_‘My lover, she is just a sweet, innocent girl!’_  her Viking chided with mock offense.

        _‘How do you know? Most kids lose their virginity by the time they’re her age.’_

_‘She is a virgin. I can smell it.’_

_‘So you knew when Bill brought me into Fangtasia…’_

        _‘That you were also untouched. Yes,’_  he answered, patting his knee. “Why don’t you come over here onto my knee, Kathleen, my dear?”

       The teen didn’t have to be told twice, and she skittered over, but she did, to her credit, look at her before she sat down. “Is it okay?”

       “Sure, sure,” she replied, stepping out of the set and going to stand by Al on his side of the camera.

       Kathy grinned from ear to ear and plopped down on Eric’s knee. He put his arm around her back and smiled at her.

       “Are you ready?” he asked.

       The girl nodded.

       “Very well then, turn a little to face the camera. Yes, just like that.”

       Kathy turned a little to look at her uncle who had started taking pictures. She was smiling, then her smile faltered a bit as she felt Eric pull back her hair to expose her throat.

       “Relax, my dear. I mean you no harm,” he cooed.

       Sookie saw the girl swallow hard and shiver as Eric’s cool fingers came up to stroke her neck. Al was still taking pictures. Then he let his fangs descend and made as if he was about to bite Kathleen’s neck, his eyes intent on the camera. Al paused for a second, thinking that he didn’t know what he was going to do if Eric actually did bite his niece, but knowing that there was nothing he could do if Eric did. He resumed taking pictures. He was a smart man with a strong sense of self-preservation.

       There was a tense moment when Eric looked positively predatory looming over Kathleen’s exposed throat, but he retracted his fangs at the last second and planted a quick peck on the teen’s jugular. The tension broke and everyone smiled.

       “Did you get some good shots?” her vampire asked casually as if his fangs hadn’t just been a hair’s breadth away from a girl’s throat.

       Al wiped a bit of sweat from his forehead and nodded nervously. “Oh yes, Mr. Northman. I got some great shots.”

       Eric grinned and winked at Kathleen who, having survived her brush with death, giggled like a… well, like a schoolgirl.

       “There you go, my dear. Now all of your friends will be able to see what a  _bad_   _girl_  you were down in Louisiana,” he said in a conspiratorial tone, his eyes alight with laughter.

       Kathleen hopped off Eric’s lap and ran over to her uncle. “Can I see them, Uncle Al? Can I?”

       “I should like to see them as well,” Eric announced, and, before anyone could even see him move, he was suddenly standing next to Alfred behind the camera.

       To anyone who had never seen how fast a vampire could travel, it was disconcerting, and both Kathleen and Alfred jumped almost ten feet. She just smirked as Eric gave her a wink.

       “Oh! Oh  ** _wow!_** ” the teen gasped.

       Eric preened, then inclined his head to the camera. “Shall we see the proofs?”

       Al recovered from his surprise and nodded, going back to the camera and switching it to display the pictures it had taken. Kathleen hopped in place, tittering as her uncle scrolled through the images. Sookie had to admit there were some pretty good shots in the bunch. Eric certainly knew how to ham it up for the camera.

       “Oh! Oh awesome! Thank you, Mr. Northman. Thank you.”

       “It was no trouble, my dear, and now I do believe we must get down to our business here, yes?” Eric reminded.

       “Y-yes, of course, Mr. Northman. I have the Chris… uhh… holiday sets through here,” Alfred answered, showing them through a door to a separate room. It was done up with a couple of Christmasy sets, one of which was a fake fireplace shell with stockings hung from the mantle. Sookie took one look at the false hearth and flashed back to the previous night with Eric lying naked on the bearskin rug.

_‘Oh! Oh **excellent** , my lover!’ _her vampire agreed, catching onto her thoughts. “Alfred… I seem to recall that you have a fake bearskin rug lying around here somewhere, am I right?”

       “Uhh… yes. Are you thinking of a… a fireplace scene?” the photographer answered.

       “That was what I had in mind.”

       Alfred nodded. “I’ll go get the rug. Why don’t you go over to the dressing and make-up area and get ready?”

       Eric nodded and headed for the small section of the main room set up with lit vanities and a host of cosmetics.

       “Kathy, please pull out the box of powders. Vampires like to use more… vintage makeup. Also, fetch sample book number 8 for Mr. Northman. I think the proofs he wanted to look at are in that one.”

       “Um, okay,” the teen replied and went to retrieve an older looking clasp box with a plastic handle. It looked like a makeup bag from the 60’s. She put it down on the vanity top and went off to get the sample book.

       “Alfred…” Eric called as he sat down at one of the beauty stations.

       “Yes, Mr. Northman?”

       “While you’re getting that rug, you might also want to take down those ridiculous red and green socks from the mantle and put up something else, like evergreen garland and pinecones,” her vamp suggested.

       “Sure thing, Mr. Northman. I have some pine bough garland and holly upstairs.”

       “That would be perfect,” Eric answered, opening the cosmetic box and pulling out a vial of black powder.

       “What is that?” she asked,

       “Kohl,” he replied, picking up a blunt ended stick and dipping it into the vial, then she watched as he deftly ran the stick straight across his eye with his eye closed. When he opened it, she saw that a thin line of black had been applied to both rims of his eyelids. The makeup could barely be seen, but it brought out his eyes dramatically.

       “Wow. That’s impressive,” she commented.

       “Black kohl powder has been used as a cosmetic since before I was born,” he explained, expertly doing the other eye.

       “You’ve done that before.”

       He put the kohl back and pulled out a round container of rouge powder.

       “You could say that,” he answered, very lightly touching a blush brush to the red powder and brushing it on his cheeks. Again, the effect was barely there, but dramatically noticeable.

       “Where did you learn to put on makeup like that?”

       “I taught myself. You must remember, my lover, that we were unknown to humans for millennia. I needed to fit in, and my white skin was too noticeable. So I learned how to conceal it.”

       He looked at her, and she thought that he still looked like a vamp, but the makeup would make him look less dead under the bright photography lights.

       He picked up a large sable hairbrush and gave it to her. “Would you brush my hair for me, please?”

       “Sure,” she agreed, accepting the brush from him and gathering his long hair in her hands.

       He was just like her in that they both loved to have their hair played with, and he practically purred with pleasure as she began brushing his locks with firm strokes. Kathleen returned with a plain photo album, and she handed it to Eric with an adoring smile. He nodded his thanks and smiled back, opening the album as the teen sat down on the chair next to them, its swivel base facing Eric. Eric flipped through the pages, his eyes scanning quickly, until he found the proofs of her and Claude. Being that she’d never actually seen any of them, she was shocked by how racy they looked. Thank god Claude was gay, because if he wasn’t, she was sure Eric was going to skin him alive.

       “Very… interesting poses, my lover,” he commented, pausing at the one where Claude was shirtless and holding her as if he was about to ravish her. Her boobs were practically popping out of the bodice.

       “Yeah, well, you know.  _Mr. Romance_  and all,” she said, trying to sound bored.

       “Hmmm,” was all he said, perusing through the proofs with raised eyebrows. He stopped at the one where Claude had his hand on her bare thigh.

       Oh yeah, Claude was  ** _very_**  lucky he was gay.

       “May I brush your hair too?” Kathleen asked.

       He turned his head slightly to look up at her, batting his blue eyes. “May she?”

       She shook her head. “Sorry, kiddo, the hair’s mine,” she answered.

       Eric smirked, but then gave the teen an apologetic look. “Sorry, my mate has spoken.”

       “It’s okay,” Kathleen replied. “I didn’t mean to step on your toes.”

       “You didn’t,” she assured the girl, still brushing the long strands of golden hair. “It’s just… I like doing this. It’s nice for me.”

       “My dad used to brush my hair,” Kathleen admitted sadly.

       She gave the teen a sympathetic look and felt bad for being stingy, but Eric hurried to reassure her. _‘It is your right to say no. As you are mine, so I am yours. Besides, I like it when you get possessive of me.’_

_‘You do?’_

_‘Of course. It affirms that you want me and wish to guard me from rivals.’_

        _‘That innocent little girl is a rival?’_

_‘Of course not. No woman is your rival because none can rival you.’_

       Did he know how to make a girl melt or what? He turned adoring eyes up at her and hummed. Her knees went weak, but she locked them at the last moment, and he gave her a sexy wink.

        _‘You stop that!’_  she scolded.

        “You guys are so cute. Do you really belong to her?” Kathleen asked curiously.

       Eric looked at the girl, his face calm and open. “Of course. We are bonded. Everything of mine is hers for the asking.”

       “Well, what if it doesn’t work out?” the girl questioned.

       Eric blinked and played dumb. “What do you mean?”

       “What if you… decide not to be mates anymore? What happens then?”

       “Ah. My dear, I think you are confusing human marriages with vampire blood-bonds. The two are only marginally similar in that they are agreements that bind partners, however vampire blood-bonds are permanent. There is no such thing as a…” He looked over his shoulder at her and gave her another loving look. “What is the word, my lover? The one for when humans sunder their marriage vows?”

       He knew the word and she knew it, but she decided to play his game. “It’s divorce, honey.”

       “Divorce. Yes, that’s it.” He turned back to the girl. “There is no vampire divorce. Once a vampire blood-bonds to a human, that’s it. They are together permanently unless one of them dies.”

       Kathleen’s eyes opened wide and she looked at them with awe. “Wow.”

        _‘Oh great, now you have her wanting her own blood-bonded vampire,’_  she complained. 

_‘She could do worse. Most vampires treat their humans far better than human men do. If she were to give herself to an experienced vampire, her first time would be unforgettable.’_

_**‘Eric!’**_

       Her Viking sighed and addressed the girl, “But, Kathleen, you must understand that a bonding like the one I have with my mate is extremely rare. A vampire will bond once, maybe twice, in his long lifetime. It is highly possible that my bonding with Miss Stackhouse is the only vampire blood-bond you will ever see.”

       The teen sighed and looked disappointed. “Yeah. I figured that. Not too many vampires in Minneapolis anyway.”

       Eric made a sound of agreement. His hair was nearly gleaming from her attentions, and she was getting antsy to get the evening moving along. The sooner they finished, the sooner she could take him home and have her way with him.

_‘Patience my lover. I still have to go to Fangtasia, and there is the matter of a decent meal for you as well.’_

_‘I’m not really hungry…’_

_‘Oh yes you are, just not for food.’_

       She clamped down on the surge of lust and gripped his shoulder. He just chuckled.

       “My mom and dad got divorced,” Kathleen admitted.

       “I hear such things happen often. It is never a good thing for a mated pair to separate when the young are still in need of both parents’ care,” her Viking replied sympathetically.

       “Yeah,” the girl agreed with a sad sigh.

       “My parents died in a flash flood when I was a little girl,” she said gently. “At least your mom and dad are still with you even if you’re not living with both of them anymore.”

       Kathleen looked at her with tears in her eyes and gulped. “I’m so sorry.”

       “It’s okay.”

       “Mr. Northman, I’m ready,” Al announced, breaking the suddenly somber mood.

       “And now, my dear, I fear you must scurry along,” Eric said, rising to his feet.

       The teen stared up at him. “Why?”

       “Because the calendar I am posing for is a nude one, and while  ** _I_**  would have no objections to your seeing me naked, I think the other human adults here would,” her immodest vampire replied, peeling off his shirt with a single pull over his head.

       Kathleen almost fainted right there at the sight of Eric’s naked chest, his Thor’s Hammer gleaming pewter against his marble white skin. She had to admit it gave her the shivers too.

       “Oh…” the girl blurted.

       “However, if you’ll give me your address, I’d be happy to send you a copy,” he whispered wickedly.

        ** _“Eric!”_**  she snapped.

       “Eric,” Kathleen repeated dreamily. “Eric Northman.”

        _‘My lover, we must make our exit. The teen hormone bomb is about to detonate,’_ he warned, taking her arm firmly and turning her towards where Al was waiting.

_‘It’s your fault! You were the one who flashed your perfect chest at her!’_

“You run along now, my dear. Toodles,” he said over his shoulder. _‘Mmmm. So my chest is perfect, is it?’_

       “Good bye, Mr. Northman,” the girl sighed with stars in her eyes.

       Her Viking gave the teen a final smile and wave before heading into the room with the holiday set.

        _‘What did you do all of that for?’_  she demanded.

_‘Patience. There is a method to my madness, lover.’_

_‘I can’t imagine what that might be other than to all but glamour that poor girl.’_

_‘That girl didn’t need to be glamoured. She practically glamoured herself.’_

       “Is the set acceptable to you Mr. Northman?” Alfred asked, completely oblivious to their silent argument.

       They both looked to see that the mantle had been redecorated with dark green pine bough garland, holly berries and pinecones. A nice (but obviously fake) bearskin rug had been laid in front of the “fire.” That was fake, too, but it looked nice enough, and Sookie was sure Al had ways of making the flames look real in the picture.

       “Oh yes, Alfred. That is perfect,” Eric answered, kicking off his boots and shimmying out of his jeans without so much as a blink.

       He made a motion of stretching because he knew she was watching him, and he gave her a wink as he went over to the faux rug.

       “Were you thinking of a frontal view, Mr. Northman? I have some props we could use to… ah… cover you,” Alfred asked nervously.

       Well, Eric was impressive clothed. Eric naked… he could give even the most well built man a complex.

       “Actually, my mate has expressed a desire for a rear view, so I believe I will lie on my stomach.”

       “You want to hide that necklace?” the photographer questioned, eyeing the Hammer.

       She saw Eric place a protective hand over the talisman and shake his head. “This was a gift to mark my union with my bonded. Almost no one ever sees it.”

       Alfred’s sharp eye proved that he knew a valuable piece of jewelry when he saw one, and she knew from her previous sitting with the photographer that he had an excellent flair for detail.

       “Well, that’s your choice, Mr. Northman, but it is a beautiful pendant.”

       “I know, but it is private and it will stay that way.”

       Alfred may have had a flair for detail, but he also knew when not to push an issue. Eric smiled and went over to the set, folding himself down to the fake bearskin rug and arranging himself such that his arms were crossed under his chin on top of the “bear’s” head. His long body was stretched out across the brown fur, the white of his skin a stark contrast against the darker color underneath him. He rested his chin on his forearm, his eyes intent on the camera, his golden hair spilling down over his back, and smiled a sly, come-hither smile. The effect was devastating, and Sookie knew that the majority of the women who would buy the new Fangtasia calendar were going to put it on December and leave it there. At least that’s what she would do if she’d bought a copy.

       As Alfred began snapping pictures, the photographer set the camera to angle slightly downward so as to capture the full effect of Eric’s magnificent backside, and her vampire’s smile widened. Forget smoldering, her Viking was on fire, his eyes a blazing inferno that threatened to consume anyone who looked at him. Her temperature zoomed up at least ten degrees, and he felt it because his lips parted and his fangs came down.

_‘I’m all yours for the taking, my lover,’_  his mindvoice purred.

       She shuddered, but managed not to jump him right there in front of Al _. ‘Careful, you wouldn’t want to squish Mr. Happy by getting too excited on that rug,’_  she countered, scrambling to get back on less shaky ground.

       His mental laughter pealed through her head.  _‘Mr. Happy. Gracious Plenty. You have the most amusing pet names for my cock, my lover.’_

       She choked and started coughing.

       “Do you need a drink of water, Miss Stackhouse? Maybe even a bit of fresh air?” Al suggested, eyeing her worriedly. Maybe he was picking up on the sexual tension in the small room.

       She gasped for air, then shook her head. “No. No, I’m good.”

       Just then she spied a sprig of mistletoe among a bunch of Christmas-themed props on a table off to the side, and she all but leaped for it.

       “Here! Have him pose with this,” she said, holding up the bit of greenery.

       “What is it, my lover?”

       “Mistletoe,” she answered.

       Eric’s eyebrows went into his hair then he grinned. “Excellent, my lover. Bring it to me.”

       Al kept taking pictures, even as she crouched over to her Viking to give him the mistletoe. She tried to just hand it to him, but of course he was too fast. He sat up, snatched the sprig from her trembling fingers and dangled it over his head before pulling her down for a searing, toe tingling kiss. She was still seeing fireworks as she staggered away from him.

        _‘I am **so**  getting you back for that later,’_ she warned,

        _‘Oh, I’m counting on it.’_

       She didn’t want to look, but she found that she had no control over her eyes as they unerringly forced her to turn her head to see what he had done with the plant. She regretted it immediately.

       Eric was still mostly on his stomach, but now he had propped himself up on one arm, and he was holding up the mistletoe between the fingers of his other hand, his expression both expectant and dangerous, as if he was daring any brave soul to come and kiss him.

       Oh yeah, this year’s calendar was going to sell like hotcakes. Eric had better double the order pronto because those puppies were going to fly off the shelves once the girls got a look at that.

_‘I appreciate your opinion, and I will consider your suggestion, my lover.’_

       Alfred took a few more shots, having Eric arrange himself in slightly different positions, but all basically the same alluring pose that was just making her sex drive do somersaults. She was never so glad as when Al finally called a halt to the shoot, and she was able to hand Eric his shirt and jeans. He just smirked at her as he pulled them on, but she did notice that he was at half-mast as he turned his back to Al.

       “Well, I think I have enough good shots for you to choose from, Mr. Northman. I also took some shots of you with your bonded when she brought you that mistletoe,” Alfred told them as they came to stand behind the camera. “Let me transfer these pictures to my computer, and I’ll print out the proofs for you right away.”

       “That would be wonderful. Thank you, Alfred,” Eric smoothed, and they followed the photographer to his office where he took a card from the camera and placed it in a card reader attached to his laptop.

       Sookie knew what it was because Eric had bought something similar at the Wal-mart to go along with his mega-camera equipment purchase. Al transferred the pictures and printed them out on his color laser printer, and they had about three dozen proofs in their hands about twenty minutes later.

       “Wonderful. I am going to want copies of many of these for myself,” Eric praised as the two of them flipped through the printouts. “As always, the quality of your work exceeds expectations. I think I will up your percentage on the calendar sales to 5-percent for this.”

       Both she and Alfred gasped. She didn’t know how much of a cut Alfred was previously going to get for the calendar, but 5-percent was going to add up to a whole boatload of money. She could practically see the dollar signs flashing in the man’s eyes as he stammered his thanks.

       “And now I have another proposition for you,” her vampire began with a winning smile, and she felt the tingles of mischief percolating across the bond,

_‘Oh oh…’_  she thought, not liking the twinkle in Eric’s eyes  _at all_.

       “Yes, Mr. Northman?” Alfred replied eagerly, his eyes still wide from the earlier news.

       “I would like to give you $5000 cash right now for the use of your studio for one hour. Does that sound like a fair deal to you?”


	3. Chapter Three

_Chapter Three_

 

 

       Alfred turned just about as pale as a black man could turn, and he repeated the amount with disbelief. “Five  ** _thousand_**  dollars?”

       “In cash. For the use of this studio for one hour,” Eric confirmed.

       “To do what?”

       “I wish to take pictures of my bonded, and she refuses to be photographed by a stranger.”

       “No porn. I don’t do no porn, Mr. Northman,” the man countered, worried and disappointed.

       “I assure you none of the pictures I intend to take will be at all pornographic. Besides, you will never have to see them because I will be using my own camera.”

       “You won’t need to use my equipment?”

       “Only your lights and a couple of your sets.”

       The man considered the offer, and Sookie dipped into his head to hear what he was thinking,

_‘Holy freaking shit! Five grand! That’d buy the new telephoto lens I want **and**  get Irene a new fridge, and it’ll buy a whole busload of Christmas presents! Plus 5- **freaking**  percent on the calendar! Man, if the guy’s gonna use his own camera, Irene don’t ever need to find out what kind of kinky pictures the damn vamp wants to take of his woman. Shit, she sure is pretty. Bet he’s gonna do nudes. Too bad. I would’ve liked to see those boobs of hers…’_

       She winced. Men were all the same. Eric might love her body, but he never objectified her like so many human guys did.

       “So, do we have a deal, Mr. Cumberland?” her Viking asked innocently.

       Al grinned. “Mr. Northman, you got yourself a deal. I’ll take Irene, Sarah and Kathleen out for dinner, and we won’t rush so y’all can take your time. You can use the studio until we get back.”

       Eric pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and counted out five crisp thousand-dollar bills. She’d never seen a thousand-dollar bill before, and she couldn’t keep herself from staring as Eric handed the money over.

        _‘Would you like one of your very own, my lover?’_  he asked slyly.

_‘Five thousand dollars, Eric?’_

_‘I wanted to make him an offer I knew he couldn’t refuse.’_

       Alfred managed to keep from drooling over the bills as he accepted them and hastily put them into his shirt pocket.

       “Thank you very much, Mr. Northman, it was a pleasure doing business with you.”

       “Indeed. It is always a pleasure doing business with you, Alfred. You have a fun time out with your family, and I will let you know my final decisions for the poses for the calendar by Friday.”

       “No problem, Mr. Northman. You two have a great evening. It was very nice to see you again, Miss Stackhouse.”

       They left the office and Alfred locked it up, trying not to hurry them too much in his eagerness to get his money into the bank. He was about to leave them to their business when Eric called him back.

       “Oh, and Alfred…”

       The photographer halted his exit and looked nervously at the vampire.

       “Yes, Mr. Northman?”

       “Those pictures of my bonded in your sample books? I think you know what I would like done with those,” her Viking said, his voice a steel blade wrapped in velvet.

       There was a tense pause, then Al nodded. “Of course, Mr. Northman. I will erase the files from my hard drives and destroy the proofs.”

       “Thank you, Alfred. You have a pleasant evening.”

       “You too, Mr. Northman.”

       She waited for the man to be gone up the stairs before she turned to her lover. “You want him to destroy those pictures?” she accused.

       He gave her a bland look, but she knew better. There were sheathed daggers behind those eyes.

       “I will not have my bonded’s assets on display for anyone to see. Those poses were scandalous.”

       “We were…  ** _I_**  was fully clothed, and I was doing it as a favor. There were no… sexy feelings involved. I was actually kinda bored,” she argued.

       He wasn’t convinced. “We both know that I have fucked you when you were fully clothed, and you didn’t look bored in those photos.”

       “I was pretending. I can do that, you know.”

       He raised an eyebrow curiously. “You can’t with me. I always know.”

       He leaned close, inhaling her scent to prove his point, and the sound of his deeply indrawn breath made shivers run up her spine.

       “I’m going to go get the camera from the car,” he murmured, his lips close to her neck.

       The words percolated into her head, reaching her brain about ten seconds after he said them. “Uhhhh…”

       “While I’m gone, I want you to think about all of the ways you would like to pose for me, my lover.”

       He licked the pulse point behind her ear and then he was gone, leaving her dizzy and gasping. His only saving grace was that he was back in less than a minute, carrying the Wal-mart bag with the camera and another bag from a store she didn’t recognize.

       “Here, my lover, choose what you would like to put on first,” he told her as he handed her the bag from the other store.

       “Huh?” she answered, opening the bag to find a plethora of lingerie in an assortment of colors. “Oh…”

       She looked up to see her Viking unpacking the camera and tripod and setting up the equipment as if he had been doing it all his life. She watched as he deftly attached the telephoto lens to the new camera and screwed the casing onto the tripod.

       “Where did you learn to do that?” she asked.

       “Why else do you think I wanted Alfred to take pictures of me with his niece?”

       She gasped. “You wanted to see how he used the camera. That’s why you asked him if he’d gone digital.”

       He gave her a cocky grin and a wink.

       “You sneaky sneak!”

       He chuckled and removed the lens cap from the camera, peering one eye through the sight.

       “That looks to be about the right height,” he commented, then lifted his head and looked at her expectantly. “So? Have you decided what you want to wear first?”

       She came out of her surprise and peered back into the bag, lifting up the item on top. It was a long, sheer, white robe with satin ties and trim. It came with a matching satin thong.

       “Oh, I like that one,” Eric agreed. “That’s a nice one to start with.”

       She began pulling more out. There was another sheer robe, but it was black with gold trim and matching black and gold panties, and a see-thru red nightie with a red thong. Next she took out an ice blue nightgown with sheer cutouts in strategic places and a long slit up the side. Under that she found a babydoll in palest pink with a pair of lacy pink panties. Last was a purple satin button up sleep shirt and a pair of purple satin underwear.

       All of it was lovely and high quality, but there wasn’t a single corset or bustier or anything vinyl or leather, which was odd because she figured he’d be into stuff like that.

        _‘Oh, it has its place. And I’d love to put you in something leather and fur, but that’s for another time,’_  he sent, his mindvoice soft and sultry.

       “Let’s go over to the vanity, my lover, and I’ll do your makeup and hair,” he suggested, offering her his hand so he could guide her to the same chair he’d been sitting in not too long ago.

       She sat down and stared at him as he began using the cosmetic powders to mix a light foundation for her.

       “Allow me,” he said, picking up a large brush and lightly sweeping the delicate powder onto her face.

       He covered her cheeks and forehead with long strokes, barely touching the brush to her skin, then he mixed a rouge and applied that to slightly accent her cheekbones.

       “Your skin is flawless, my lover. You barely need anything at all. Just a thin layer of powder to smooth out your skin tone and give you a bit of a blush,” he told her, his eyes intent.

       He used the kohl on her eyes, which felt really weird because she felt the little wooden applicator actually touch her eyeball as he slid it between her closed lids, and he used the smallest bit of mascara just on the tips of her lashes. Lastly he mixed a lipstick from the same powder he used for the rouge, using a dropper full of some sort of binding liquid that was in the makeup case. He applied it with a tiny brush that tickled, and she giggled a bit.

       When he was done, he turned the chair to face the mirror, and she got a look at herself. The effect was stunning. She didn’t look like she was wearing any makeup at all, yet her skin glowed and her lips were a healthy pink almost the same color as her natural lip tone. She watched him as he took the sable brush and began brushing out her hair, making it spill in blond waves over her shoulders.

       “There. Perfect.”

       “Where did you learn to do all of this?”

       “I told you. I’m self-taught. But I did have a little help. I spent some time in Hollywood in the 1950’s. I was… seeing a makeup artist for MGM at the time. She showed me many… tricks of the trade.”

       “I’ll say.”

       He grinned at her. “I am a fast learner. And now, my lover, it is time for you to strip.”

       She hesitated. Was she really going to do this?

       “I assure you that the only two people who will ever see these pictures will be you and me. They are for our enjoyment only. No one else will ever lay eyes upon them.”

       He took her hands and pulled her to her feet, sliding his palms under her sweater to lift it up over her head. She let him and unclasped her bra, but paused.

       “Al and his family are gone, right?”

       “They left ten minutes ago from the back entrance. We are completely alone in the building,” he assured her.

       Well, he would know. His acute hearing could probably catch a single heartbeat on the third floor.

       “There is a cat in the upper bedroom, but it’s asleep,” he confirmed with a smug smile.

       She met his blue eyes, and bit her lip, then began feeling a little wicked as she let the bra fall to the tiled floor. His nostrils flared and she saw him lick his lips, but to his credit he didn’t do anything else. Instead he stepped back and allowed her to slip out of her skirt and hose until she was standing there in nothing but the cotton panties she’d put on earlier. Then those came off, too, and he was handing her the white satin thong for her to shimmy into as he slid the sheer white robe onto her arms.

       “Where do you want me?” she asked suggestively.

       “Everywhere and anywhere, but for right now, I think I want you on the bedroom set,” he answered, his eyes glowing.

       She followed him to the section of the studio that had been made up with a bed. The long sheer robe billowed around her as she walked, but the ambient air was cool so she was getting goosebumps and her nipples grew hard. Eric noticed and made a little sound of pleasure, but he was studiously not touching her.

       ‘ _If I start touching you, I won’t be able to stop, and we will spend our hour fucking like rabbits and not get any pictures taken. I am employing a strict hands off policy while we are here, because if I don’t we won’t get anything done.’_

        _‘ **You’d**  get done…’_ she teased.

 _‘Oh, I’ll get done. I’ll get done and you’ll get done, and we will do each other at least two more times tonight, probably more, but right now we will have to settle for longing looks and sexy fantasies,’_  he cooed back,

        _‘Is that what the lingerie is about? Your sexy fantasies?’_

_‘Of course. The theme tonight is your feminine beauty. I’ve chosen lingerie that is soft and light and womanly. The next one we do will be all about your dangerous side. That will have the corsets and the leather.’_

_‘You’re assuming there will be a next one.’_

       He blinked at her. ‘Of course there will be a next one.’

       They had arrived at the bedroom set, and it was the same one that Eric had posed on in last year’s calendar. The four-poster bed had been dressed in white and a backdrop of snowflakes had been hung on the wall for that photo, but today the bed was dressed in mardi gras colors of green, purple and gold. There were drapes of fabric on the wall to give it a “curtained” effect and numerous piles of different colored pillows to choose from.

       “Lie down on the bed, my lover. On your side, facing me,” Eric instructed.

       She did as asked and Eric arranged her hair and robe, leaving it open to display her breasts, her goldgubbe nestled brightly between them. Then he brought the big lights and the camera over, and fiddled a bit, before taking the first set of pictures, then he rearranged a couple of the pillows and took a few more shots before letting her up and showing her the images on the camera’s little display screen.

       “See how magnificent you are, my lover?”

       She had to agree. She looked like a model in a Victoria’s Secret catalog except that her boobs weren’t airbrushed out the way those models’ were. He smiled at her and she smiled back, feeling loved and beautiful.

       After they were done with the white robe, he had her take it, and the panties, off and lie on the bed on her back. He used the edge of the top sheet to drape over her hip and obscure her crotch while he asked her to put her hands behind her head. Then he asked her to turn over, and he took pictures of her lying on her stomach, her nude body nestled amid a kaleidoscope of jewel colors, her hair spilling over her shoulders and falling over the pillows. The next pose had her kneeling on the bed, clasping one of the posts and looking at the camera with a “why don’t you come over here, Big Boy?” look on her face. Then, because he thought the purple would go well with the mardi gras colors on the bed, he asked her to put on the purple sleepshirt, but to leave it unbuttoned as he took more pictures of her on the bed in various poses.

       The whole experience was sexy and exciting, and she found herself really enjoying it. The hands off policy might mean he wouldn’t touch her, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t tease him or entice him, and she would touch herself lightly – a brush to a sensitive nipple here, a caress to her bottom there. She was really getting to him because his fangs were staying down, and the bulge in his pants was clearly noticeable, but they were both loving it. It was so much more fun than when she’d posed with Claude.

 _‘Just wait until I get you out of here, my lover,’_  he purred.

        _‘Just wait until **I**  get  **you**  out of here,’_ she countered, smoldering at him, and grinned when she saw him shudder and lick his lips.

       When they were done with the bedroom set, they moved to the “library” where he had her pose on a plush, brown leather chair with her hair up in a matronly bun and wearing nothing but a book in her lap. He even found a pair of school-marm glasses that he perched on her nose. She told him that she was imagining the book to be the Kama Sutra, and his nostrils flared, but then he grinned.

       “The abridged or unabridged version?” he asked, his eyes boring holes right into her. The look went right to her southernmost parts, and she prayed she wouldn’t smear anything on the leather.

       They moved on to another set, this one made up to look like a Greek or Italian villa with fake marble columns and a “staircase.” He had her wear the black lingerie set for those poses, placing her on the stairs and behind the columns, the robe unclasped and hanging loosely on her shoulders. She pretended that they were in some romantic location like some of the places she’d read about in books like Tuscany or Milan.

       “Do you want to go there? I’ll take you. I’ll take you anywhere you wish to go: Paris, Rome, Venice, the Greek Isles. The whole world is at our feet, my lover,” her Viking told her, coming forward to fluff her hair a bit and pull the black see-thru fabric aside to bare one breast while leaving the other “covered.”

       “I’d settle for Disney World,” she teased.

       He grinned. “They have night hours for vampires now, you know.”

       She laughed and turned around, making him take a picture of her from her rear looking over her shoulder, as if he had surprised her in her morning robe. He smiled and pulled back his lips to make sure she could see how much she was pleasing him.

       “You are a natural at this, my lover.”

       “What’s next?” she asked, feeling the need to move things along.

       “The blue nightgown on the New Orleans set,” he answered indicating a set that had been done up to look like the interior of a Creole townhouse in the Quarter, complete with “peeling” stucco.

       She nodded and shucked the black robe and panties in lieu of the slinky ice blue shift. The sheer panel cutouts plunged down between her breasts all the way to her navel, and more went up the sides of the gown. She didn’t bother to put on the panties that came with it.

       There was a French divan for the set, and Eric asked her to lie on it, the straps for the gown dipping off her shoulders and her goldgubbe dangling out, then he had her pull the front down just enough to bare one breast and lift the bottom to show her naked hip and thigh.

       “This one will be November,” he said.

       “Why November?”

       “Because that is the month of our anniversary and this gown reminds me of the dress you wore on the night of our bonding.”

       “Oh,” she breathed, and the memory of him in the Viking regalia made her stomach muscles clench.

       They moved on to a set that was made up in pastels with a white wicker loveseat and a white rocking chair. She put on the pink babydoll for that set and posed in a variety of not-so-innocent poses, then she took off the babydoll and posed on the loveseat, a little pillow strategically placed to obscure her privates. She reached down and touched herself behind the pillow, giving Eric a heated look that made him growl and press his crotch against the tripod.

       “Careful. You wouldn’t want to break that,” she cooed.

       “You are a minx, my lover.”

       “Am I in trouble?” she asked innocently.

       “You have no idea. Now, since you cannot keep your hands to yourself, favor me and pinch those perfect nipples of yours to make them stand out.”

       “Yes, my mate,” she replied, doing as he asked. They both groaned.

       When they were done with that set, he directed her to the Holiday sets and put her in the red see-thru nightie. There she posed in front of the Christmas Tree set with a present and a sprig of mistletoe, then she stripped out of the nightie and posed on the “bearskin” rug, lying on her side, her hair cascading over the bear’s head. The position brought back all sorts of memories from earlier and also from last night, and she smiled coyly at him.

       “Why don’t you take one of the two of us together on this rug?” she suggested.

       He blinked at her. “How would I do that? I don’t remember a remote coming with this camera.”

       “Doesn’t it have a self-timer? I thought almost all cameras came with them nowadays,” she answered.

       He frowned then dug in the camera bag to retrieve the camera’s manual. He looked at the back index, then flipped to a page near the middle, and cracked his face into a big grin.

       “So it does, my lover.”

       Her smile widened and she patted the fur. “So then why don’t you come on over here, you big Viking, and we’ll take a shot of both of us.”

       He gave her such a heated, sexy look that she thought she might spontaneously combust right there, and he was just reaching to pull off his T-shirt when he came to an abrupt halt, his head rearing up and his nostrils flaring.

       “You need to get dressed, my lover. Quickly.”

       “What is it?” she asked, but she was already on her feet.

       “Alfred and his family just pulled up out back.”

       “But it hasn’t been…” She looked at the clock on the wall. It had been nearly ninety minutes since they’d started. “Oh. Gosh, did we loose track of time or what?”

       “Time flies when you’re having fun,” he answered with a sexy grin as he picked her up and rushed her over to the dressing area where her clothes were.

       By the time she was dressed, he’d already gathered up all of the lingerie and put it back in the shopping bag, and he had the camera equipment almost packed away. They were just in time, too, because the back entrance to the studio opened and four people came walking in.

       “Hi, Mr. Northman,” Kathleen greeted, starry-eyed.

       “Well, hello again, my dear. Did you have a good supper?” her Viking cooed, retracting his tripod to put it into its spot on the exterior of the camera case.

       “Oh yes. Uncle Al took us to the Texas Roadhouse.”

       He looked at her, his eyes questioning.

_‘It’s a steak place. They let you throw peanut shells on the floor.’_

       He blinked.  _‘I fail to see the draw. It must be a nightmare for the staff. I’d drop kick anyone who tossed peanut shells on the floor of my bar right out the door.’_

       She shrugged and he smiled at her, the secret smile that made the corners of his mouth crinkle.

       “That must have been such fun for you. Did you annoy the staff by tossing your peanut shells on the floor?” he asked.

       Kathleen giggled and made goo-goo eyes at Eric. “You’ve been there?”

       “No, my dear. The last time I had beef, the bull was still kicking,” Eric answered blandly, and Kathleen had the good sense to gasp.

       “Are you finished using the studio, Mr. Northman?” Alfred asked, giving the studio a close once-over.

       “Yes, Alfred. Your timing is perfect. We were just finishing up,” her Viking replied.

       The family approached, but Sookie noticed that the two older women were wary. One was Irene, Alfred’s wife. The other had to be his sister, Sarah. They were looking around the studio curiously, but since everything had been set back to rights, there were absolutely no clues as to what they had been up to not five minutes before. She was fully dressed and sitting demurely on one of the makeup chairs, looking for all the world as if the last thing she’d been doing was posing naked on a bearskin rug. Alfred was doing his best not to look disappointed. He’d been hoping to “catch” them in the middle of the photoshoot – his speculations weren’t that far off the mark, although his poses were much more “Debbie Does Dallas” than “Victoria’s Secret.”

        _‘Hmmph. Anyone can do porn, but it takes a true artist to do erotica,_ ’ her mate complained.

       She tried to hide her smile by turning her head away.

       “In fact, we will be out of your hair just as soon as I get this camera packed,” Eric went on, moving to detach the zoom lens from the front of the camera’s casing.

       “The Olympus EVOLT E-300,” Alfred commented. “That’s a nice camera.”

       Eric shrugged. “So I have been told. It functioned adequately. I will reserve judgment until after I have printed out the pictures I took tonight.”

       “You’ll have to let me know what you think of it,” the photographer said,

       Eric nodded and put the camera and the zoom lens away in the camera bag. “I will.” He offered her his palm and she slipped her hand into it, allowing him to gently pull her to her feet. “And now, my lover, we must go to Fangtasia, and I need to see about securing you your own supper.” He kissed the back of her hand, his cool lips lingering on her skin as he looked at her with his blue, blue eyes. “Shall we?”

       She gave him a tender smile and sidled up to him. “We most certainly shall.”

       Eric turned to Al and his family, giving them a little incline of his head. “Irene, pleasure to see you again.”

       “Mr. Northman,” the middle-aged black woman replied, her eyes cautious.

       He nodded to Kathleen and her mother, his eyes laughing. “A pleasure to meet you, my dear. Have a safe trip back to Minneapolis.”

       The teen giggled. “Thanks, Mr. Northman.”

       He took her arm and led her towards the door. “I’ll be in touch later this week, Alfred. You have a good night.”

       “Bye, Mr. Northman!” Kathleen called as they slipped out of the studio.

       “You do know that she is going to moon over you and fantasize about you for the next seven years,” she said as they got into the Corvette.

       “There are worse things. Do  ** _you_**  fantasize about me, my lover?” he asked with a leer.

       She snorted and crossed her legs, not bothering to grace that with an answer.

       “Would  ** _you_**  like to go to Texas Roadhouse?” he teased.

       She looked at him as if he’d grown a second head. “Ah. No, thank you.”

       “Then where shall I take my lovely mate for her meal? She must eat for she will need every bit of her energy later.”

       Only Eric Northman could make something benign sound like pure sex.

       “I’d let you eat me, my lover. You know I… satisfy.”

       She groaned and rolled her eyes, but her legs parted involuntarily and her nipples hardened.

       “Why don’t we just stop at the Quikmart, and I’ll get one of their pre-packaged chef’s salads?” she suggested.

       He frowned. “I have heard unsatisfactory things about the quality of their food. I think I will take you to Herby K’s. I seem to remember that you liked their catfish dinner, and their service is very quick. Is that an acceptable compromise, my lover?

       She nodded. “Sure, that’ll be fine, if we get it to go and I can eat it while you’re doing your paperwork.”

       “Agreed. It will drive my staff crazy to smell fried fish in Fangtasia.”

       She snickered and gave him an exasperated look. “You love tormenting them, don’t you.”

       He grinned. “Just wait until I announce karaoke night. I think I may have a full revolt on my hands after that.”

       “Thalia alone will try to kill you.”

       He just laughed.

       Less than half an hour later, she was seated in Eric’s office, enjoying her fried catfish and crawfish etouffee (Herby K’s was one of the few places that made an etouffee without garlic.) Eric was behind his desk, sifting through the piles of invoices and weekly reports, and already looking fed up with all of it.

       She finished off her meal and chased it down with a glass of iced tea, then she amused herself by taking the time to closely study Eric’s office. She hadn’t spent a great deal of time in the room, and the times when she had been there, she’d been too occupied with a) almost getting killed, b) almost dying from a maenad wound, c) trying to find a spot to sit for the big pre-Rhodes planning meeting, and d) trying to absorb everything Pam was trying to teach her about the Entertainment Director position and filling out paperwork. Now that she had time, she was finding his varied collection of knickknacks, posters and pictures very interesting.

       Unfortunately, it was only interesting for about fifteen minutes, after that she started getting antsy. She sighed and Eric flicked her a look, peering at her over his computer screen. The light from the monitor was making his eyes glow.

       “Sookie?”

       “Can I help?”

       “Not really, but I’m almost done. I’ll be finished soon and then we can go home.”

       “Okay.”

       “I have some magazines if you’d like something to read,” he offered.

       “Which ones?”

       He rooted around on his desk and pulled out some rumpled issues. “American Vampire, BusinessWeek, Forbes, and the latest issue of People.”

       She held out her hand and he tossed the magazines over. She caught them because her reflexes were still pretty quick from their blood exchange on Isle Elena, and soon she was flipping through the pages, reading about the latest business trends, an interview with a newly come out of the coffin actor in Hollywood ( _‘I knew he was a vamp! All those nighttime movies and underground scenes.’_ ), and Brangelina’s newest third world adoptee.

       That kept her occupied for about a half hour, then she was bored again, and looking for something to do. She spied a calendar on the back of Eric’s office door, and she was reminded of the pictures they’d been taking earlier. A wicked smile crossed her lips, and she decided to play a little. Eric must have been on to her because he paused in his reading and looked at her curiously.

       “My lover?”

       “Nothing. Will you be done soon?”

       “Another twenty minutes, I promise.”

       “Okay.”

       She waited about ten, taking up some time by going to the bathroom to take care of necessaries and check her makeup, then she sauntered back into the office and sat back down on the couch. Eric was still immersed in his invoices, but the intent expression on his face was cute.

       She watched him for a bit, enjoying how he absently bit his lip when he was trying to puzzle something out, then began to lightly touch herself. She started with her breasts, just light brushes over her nipples, until she saw him pause and look at her. She tried to look innocent until he went back to his papers. She started again, this time caressing her inner thigh through the denim.

 _‘What are you doing, my lover?’_  his mindvoice slid into her head.

 _‘Nothing…’_  she insisted coyly.

_‘Hmmm. Nothing feels very much like… something.’_

_‘You must be imagining things.’_

_‘I must be because my Sookie would never finger herself in my office. That’s something I can only fantasize about.’_

_‘Really? You’ve fantasized about me in your office?’_

_‘More times than I can count. And here you are, and I am buried in paperwork, when I’d rather be buried inside you. It’s torture.’_  He gave a mental sigh.

_‘Would you like me to stop doing nothing?’_

_‘Oh no. You may keep doing nothing. I can withstand the pain.’_

       She smiled and licked her lip, then touched her leg again. Eric flicked an eye at her, smiled, and resumed his work, but she did see him shift a bit in his chair. She kept going, and for the next fifteen minutes she very lightly and very gently stroked the flames of arousal to a low simmer. She was practically trembling with anticipation when she saw him finally sit back from his work and look at her with predatory eyes.

       “All done?” she asked sweetly.

       He swallowed and nodded.

       “Why don’t you go get the camera?”

       He was gone before she could see him move, and he was back before she could count to twenty, camera bag in hand, fangs fully down.

       “What… did you have in mind, my lover, for a picture?” he asked, his voice a little unsteady.

       She smiled and pulled her sweater over her head, dropping it to the carpeted floor. Her bra joined it. Eric grinned at her and began setting up the camera as she slid out of her skirt. She left the panties and thigh highs on, however, and her modest two-inch heeled brown leather pumps. Eric raised his eyebrows, but nodded approvingly.

        _‘You’re really getting into this, aren’t you, my lover?’_

        _‘I have a good teacher.’_

       She slightly parted her legs, then she put her arms up behind her head, lifting her hair and turning her chin so that the camera had a three-quarter view of her face. She tried to put all of her building and stymied passion into the look she gave the camera. She heard Eric groan, felt the lust across the bond, and then she saw the flash of the camera as he took the shot. Three seconds later, she was being pushed back against the couch, and her cotton panties were on their way to Valhalla, but that was okay because he was about to send her there with them – figuratively of course.

       “You are a vision,” he moaned through clenched teeth as she felt him testing her readiness. She was ready. Oh boy! Was she ready!

       His pants were open, his T-shirt pulled out of his jeans. She arched her pelvis and grabbed his shoulders, begging, and then he was in her, thrusting so hard she saw stars. She cried out in pain and ecstasy, clinging to him as they coupled on the leather upholstery, and they both knew the other wouldn’t last long.

       “Eric!” she gasped, arching as he found her breasts.

       She could hear the couch creaking and banging against the office wall, and she was so glad they were alone. They were desperate for each other, desperate for the oneness their union brought them, and she could hear Eric’s litany of love and passion and need echoing through the bond.

_‘My lover, my lover, my lover.’_

       “Ah! Ah! Ah!” she cried, then screamed when he bit her breast.

       The bite made her climax, and she clamped down on him, her nails digging into the skin on his shoulders as she shook. A rending snarl ripped out of him as he came himself, pushing that much deeper into her, and shuddering violently in release. In the aftermath, he held her and stilled her trembling, planting feather-light kisses on her face and chest.

       “You are amazing,” he whispered. “I love you.”

       “I love you, too.”

       He looked over his shoulder to the tripod then smiled at her. “I think we are going to have far too much fun with that camera.”

 


	4. Chapter Four

_  
Chapter Four_

 

       They did have fun with it. Lots of fun. Now that Eric was finished with his paperwork, he took her into the main bar and started snapping pictures of her there. He set her up on the bar, lounging on her side with a 6-pack of TrueBlood hiding her crotch. Then he had her put on the Fangtasia black cotton camisole that had the bar’s logo splashed across it, and the black thong panties with two little fangs and a drop of blood silkscreened on the front, and he had her pose while sitting on a bar stool with her legs hooked behind the metal rungs on the stool, and also at his usual table in the middle of the bar, curled atop it, her expression sultry and enticing.

       “You gonna use those shots to sell these things in the gift shop?” she asked coyly, indicating the camisole and underwear.

       He chuckled and winked at her. “Maybe.”

       She flipped her hair back, puffed out her chest a little and smoldered at the camera. “Make sure you get my good side.”

       Her Viking’s fangs ran down, and he grinned. “All your sides are good.”

       The thong panties didn’t make it out of the bar. She felt bad, but Eric said he’d just write them off as a business expense.

       After another round of very intense lovemaking right on top of the table in the middle of the bar (he said he’d be smelling their sex for days, and so would the rest of the undead staff), he took her back to his house. As they entered the kitchen from the garage, she gave him a come-hither look and beckoned with a finger.

 _‘Where to, my lover?’_  he asked with a sly smile.

_‘The den. We have some… unfinished business with a bearskin rug.’_

       His eyes burned and she saw him lick his lips.  _‘Of course. How could I have forgotten?’_

_‘Bring the camera.’_

_‘Your wish is my command.’_

       She smirked.  _‘Oh I like that. Come over here.’_

       He picked up the camera bag and presented himself.  _‘Yes, my lover?’_

       She could see that he was already hard and straining against his jeans, so she boldly reached down and stroked him through the fabric.

       “That can’t be comfortable,” she cooed.

       “What do you intend to do about it?”

       She batted her eyelashes innocently even as her fingers unzipped his fly, making him spring free.

       “Better?” she asked sweetly. “Not as much pressure?”

       His eyes fully dilated and his fangs flashed white as he pulled back his lips. “Only a little. There is still a great deal of… pressure from the… inside.”

       She gave him a sexy smile, then grasped him lightly in her hand, pulling him very gently towards her as she took a step backwards. His eyes opened a little wider, but he followed obediently.

       “Careful,” he warned when she tugged a little harder.

       “What? It isn’t going to come off, is it?”

       He snorted, but allowed her to lead him, her hand still firmly around his length, to the den.

       “When did you get so brazen?” he asked.

       “Don’t you like it?” she replied, releasing him once they were in front of the hearth and pressing her hands to his chest.

       “I didn’t say that. You are a vixen when you are like this. I can’t resist you.”

       Her hands got busy again. “Who says you have to resist?” she purred, then dropped to her knees to give him a few licks.

       He barked a shocked cry and threaded his hands into her hair, encouraging her to take him into her mouth. She did, but only to tease and torment him because she pulled back a few moments later.

       “Build us a fire,” she said in her sexiest voice.

       “I was working on that,” he complained.

       She tapped the tip of him in admonishment, making him bounce a little. “A  ** _real_**  fire.”

       “Yes, my lover.”

       She rewarded him with a brief lick and little suck just to the head, then she sat back on her haunches so he could kneel beside her and begin laying the fire. She caressed him as he did so, running her hand up his back and hooking her fingers under his shirt so she could pull it off. He returned the favor by ripping off her sweater and bra, and tossing them both into the fire.

       “Cotton makes good kindling,” he explained, his eyes bright as the flames started building both in the fireplace and in her body.

       “You’re going to replace both of those,” she stated.

       “Of course. And you will have a line of credit at our new lingerie store so I may rip and tear my way through your underwear whenever the mood strikes me.”

       She chuckled and leaned back, sliding her skirt off before he could toss that on the fire too, and removed her thigh highs.

       “Nylon’s no good for burning,” she said. “And I like that skirt.”

       She spread her legs, offering him the opportunity to divest her of her panties, and he happily obliged. The fire flared briefly as the cotton landed on the burning wood.

       “You’re over dressed,” she pointed out, pouting because he was still wearing his jeans.

       “I need to set up the camera,” he reminded.

       She smiled. “So you do. You best hurry before the fire goes out.”

       He kissed her, making sure his tongue swiped the back of her throat before pulling sharply away. “Oh, not to worry, my lover. My fires burn all night.”

       He gave her a wicked leer, then hopped to his feet, moving with vampire swiftness to setup the camera.

       “Lie back on the rug, my lover. I want some pictures of just you.”

       She obeyed, stretching out on the bearskin, half on her side, half on her back, with her head supported by the massive skull. This time she didn’t bother to conceal her private parts, but laid her body out in all its naked glory. She heard and felt her Viking’s appreciation through the bond.

       “You are a siren, a vision of beauty,” he whispered, then instructed gently, “Stay as still as you can. I have set a slow shutter speed to compensate for the lack of light.”

       She sighed and relaxed, doing as she was told and staying very still. About two seconds later she heard the click-whirr of the camera going off; there was no flash.

        _‘To take advantage of the firelight and not ruin the wonderful glow it is spreading on your skin,’_  her lover explained.

        _‘It will look even more wonderful on **your**_ _skin. Why don’t you get your butt over here and join me.’_

 _‘Just my butt or would you like the rest of me there, too?’_  he questioned playfully.

_‘Well… just your butt would be fine, but if the rest of you wants to come along, that’d be okay.’_

_‘How generous of you.’_

       He set something on the camera, and an instant later he was sliding, naked, in behind her, pulling her body tight against his as they both laid to face the lens. He had his hand pressed possessively on her lower abdomen and his chin on her shoulder, his hair falling across her arm.

        _‘There is a ten second delay,’_  he informed, nibbling her earlobe.

       She moaned, but forced herself to smile for the camera just in time for it to take the picture.

        _‘Tease!’_  she accused.

       He gave her an incredulous look.  _‘As if what you were doing earlier wasn’t. You, my lover, are a cruel cock-tease.’_

_‘And you love every minute of it.’_

       He preened and grinned.  _‘Of course.’_

       He got up and reset the camera. “Sit up for me, lover, please.”

       She did as asked and rose up to sit, perched on one hip with her legs curled underneath her. He nodded in approval, set the timer and moved behind her again, embracing her with one arm across her breasts and the other low, over her hip. He kissed her throat and the camera clicked.

       They took several more shots in different positions, each of the two of them naked in the firelight. There was even one of her sitting atop him, both hands on his chest as he leaned back on his elbows. The camera took its shot just before she slid herself onto him, and no more pictures were taken for an extended period of time.

       Making love with her Viking on the bearskin rug was a sensuous experience meant to be savored, and for once she was glad that her mate liked to do things slow if he had the chance. By the time he was finished ravishing her, she was a boneless puddle of satisfaction and contentment, and he took one last picture of the two of them. In it she was lying, sated and spent (and she looked it) on the rug, and he was behind her, but positioned in the opposite direction with his cheek pressed lightly to the curve of her hip and his hand on her thigh. The firelight gave both of them a warm, golden glow.

       She must have dozed off because, the next thing she knew, the camera had been packed away, the fire had been doused, and he was carrying her to the master suite. At some point, he must have run a bath because the big tub was full of hot water, and she sighed as he lowered her into it, making sure to pile her hair up so it wouldn’t get wet. He did something similar with his hair, and she wished she had the camera to capture the image of Eric the Viking Vampire with a Pebbles Flintstone topknot on his head – minus the bone.

 _‘It’s a Japanese mage,’_  he sniffed, irritated, pronouncing the word “mah-gay.”

       She chortled.  _‘Looks like Pebbles to me, but you’re more of a Bamm Bamm,’_  she teased, reaching to tickle him on his belly.

        _‘I’ll Bam Bam **you**  all night,’_ he countered, leering and moving closer.

        _‘Bam bam, thank you ma’am?’_

       He put his lips against her throat and hummed.  _‘Always thank you. I will show you my utmost gratitude for having me, for being my woman, every night.’_

       She slid her arms around him, holding him close as he slid between her legs.

       Contrary to what adult filmmakers would have people think, having sex in water wasn’t nearly as easy as the porn stars made it look. There were… lubrication issues, and her vampire found it necessary to lift her from the water long enough to give her a good licking with his amazing tongue to get her good and ready, before mounting her and sliding both of them back into the tub to finish what they’d started. The compromise yielded some very pleasurable results indeed.

       “I swear I’ve never had so much sex in my entire life,” she sighed some time later after they had dried off, and he had her tucked into bed.

       “Am I wearing you out?” he asked, smiling as he propped himself up on one elbow beside her.

       She chuckled. “I should be. I shouldn’t be able to walk. I should be a boneless lump of Jell-O, but I’m not. I want you just as much as you want me.”

       She frowned, wondering when she’d turned into such a sexpot. It was unseemly for a lady. Was she even a lady anymore?

       Her Viking snorted, his irritation coming across the bond. “Of course you are a lady. You are a Queen. My queen. And you want me as much as I want you because of my blood. Vampire blood is an aphrodisiac in humans.”

       “So it isn’t the bond making me want to have sex with you all the time?”

       “Oh, not this again,” he complained.

       “Well, how can I tell what’s the bond and what are my real feelings?”

       “My lover, I thought we had resolved this. Our bond doesn’t  ** _make_**  you feel anything. Everything you feel, everything that you experience through our bond, is genuine. If you are feeling like you want to have sex with me, it’s because you want to have sex with me. If you feel happy and content, it’s because you are happy and content. Our bond allows us to feel each other and know what the other is feeling. It lets us project feelings and give each other strength and courage. In our case, it lets us hear each other’s thoughts. But it doesn’t make us feel anything we weren’t already feeling. It might amplify those feelings or bring them to the surface, but it doesn’t manufacture feelings that weren’t there to begin with.”

       He leaned down and kissed her gently, nuzzling her and giving her that low croon that she always found soothing.

       “I am sorry if you were operating under the misconception that our bond was somehow making you feel things you wouldn’t normally feel. That was my failing in not explaining it to you in more detail. I’m sorry. I kept thinking that we would have time for me to take you aside and tell you everything, but we never seemed to get the chance.”

       She pressed closer, snuggling. “And it wasn’t like I was giving you much of one either,” she admitted.

       He stroked her hair. “No, but that was part of the challenge, wasn’t it?”

       She shrugged. “I guess.”

       To be honest, she was a little mad at herself for being so stubborn for so long. If she’d just faced up to things from the beginning, things might have gone a lot differently.

       “Don’t be angry. Your stubbornness is what gave you the strength to survive in a world that had cast you out. It’s what kept you sane when a weaker person would have been driven crazy by the voices. While I admit that your bullheaded ways sometimes irritate and confound me, I love you all the more for them because it means that you will always meet me toe to toe,” he told her fondly.

       “You want me to argue with you?” she said, giving him an incredulous look.

       “I want you to engage me. I don’t want someone who will always tell me yes. Not even Pam is completely obedient. Obey me when it is important for you to do as I say – and you will know when those times are – but call me out when you think I am taking you for granted or doing something that could be done better a different way. I cannot count the number of times your perspective has opened a new door for me or helped me see something from a different angle. Don’t ever stop doing that for me, my lover.”

       She blushed under the praise and nudged him. “Like how my idea that you should take your own damn pictures led you to dump $2000 on camera equipment tonight.”

       He chuckled and fondled her breast. “And it was worth every penny. You were absolutely stunning, a muse of muses. I have such wonderful plans for you and that camera.”

       He sounded almost dreamy, and she hated to burst his bubble, but she needed him to understand something.

       “Just so long as you and I are the only ones who ever see them,” she cautioned.

       “Of course. I would not have such images of you out where anyone could see.”

       She snorted. “Hell,  ** _I_**  haven’t even seen most of them.”

       “Would you like to see them?”

       She blinked. “Right now?”

       “Of course. Give me five minutes, lover,” he said, sliding out of bed.

       He didn’t wait for her protest, nor did he even put on a robe as he walked, naked, out of the bedroom. She hoped the neighbors weren’t Peeping Toms, then again, knowing Eric he wouldn’t care if they were.

       She waited, lying on her back and casting a glance at the clock. It was almost two-thirty in the morning. She groaned. She had to work today, but thankfully, she didn’t have to be in until late. She doubted very much if she was going to get to sleep before dawn.

       Eric returned in less than five minutes carrying a lightweight laptop, the card reader thingy he’d bought at Wal-mart and camera bag. He took the camera out of the bag and deftly removed the little data card from the slot in the camera’s casing. Then he got into bed and piled pillows up behind them so they could both sit up comfortably as he plugged the card reader into the laptop and inserted the data card into it. The speed and ease with which he handled the technology boggled the mind, and she shook her head.

       “You are such a fast learner. You have got to be the most adaptable…” She paused. Man? Vampire? She couldn’t say she knew too many humans who could pick up new things as fast as her Viking could, but she also knew that his talent for learning wasn’t a universal vampire trait.

 _‘Just the smart ones,’_  he told her, then spoke aloud, “We have to be. To stop adapting, to stop learning, is to get swallowed up by change, especially in this day and age when the world is changing so quickly. If we want to survive, we have to keep up.”

       “Well, you’re doing a better job of it than I am. I can barely use the computer I got from Hadley.”

       He smiled at her, a gentle, loving smile that told her that he would help her in whatever way he could, and that he would be there to guide her. It made her warm all over. She’d been without a partner for so long, she’d almost forgotten what it was like to have someone she could depend on.

       “I’ll teach you, my lover. You’ll pick it up in no time.”

       Amazingly, she believed him.

       He clicked something and opened a window on the computer screen, his fingers flying across the keyboard and touchpad, and she saw him select a bunch of files from the data card and drag them to copy to the laptop’s hard drive. The action made her nervous because she knew computers could be hacked.

       “Not to worry, my lover. This is my personal computer. It is not on any network, I never bring it to Fangtasia, and it has the highest security settings available. No one is hacking into this laptop.”

       She dearly hoped so because, if not, pictures of her naked on Fangtasia’s bar and on Eric’s bearskin rug were going to be splashed all over the Internet.

       “I will hunt down and disembowel anyone stupid enough to do that, my lover.”

       He was dead serious too.

       She snuggled close, waiting for the pictures to transfer to the computer, then rested her head on his shoulder as he clicked on the first image and brought it up on the screen. It was the first one he’d taken: the one of her in the sheer white robe posing on the bed at Al’s studio. The last time she’d seen it had been on the tiny viewscreen built into the camera. Now that it was displayed on the larger laptop screen, she got a better look at it.

       “Magnificent. That will be my January,” he purred.

       She blushed, but had to admit that she did look really good. He smirked at her and opened the next one: another of her in the white robe, spread on the bed surrounded by purples, greens and golds. His nostrils flared, and he licked his lips. She could feel the stirrings of arousal in the bond, and she knew for sure that he’d be seeking more attention from her very soon. And who could blame him? Even she wasn’t unaffected by the pictures.

       He scrolled through the rest of them, pausing to appreciate each one, and making a little comment or paying her a compliment. None of the pictures were vulgar or degrading, and she found herself remembering how much fun she’d had posing for them. Her favorite was one of her sitting on the edge of the bed, positioned in the same pose her Viking had been when he was Mr. January – one foot on the floor, one knee curled under her. She was wearing the purple sleep shirt and matching panties. The shirt was unbuttoned but draped to cover her just at the edge of her nipples, and her goldgubbe shined against her skin. There was something alluring yet classy about the image. It said that she was a lady and should be treated with respect, even if the photographer knew she could make him beg for mercy.

       Eric’s favorite from the photoshoot at Alfred’s was, not surprisingly, a nude, but, surprisingly, one of just her torso from the tops of her breasts up, again with her necklace a central focus in the image. It was a close-up; her hair loose over her shoulders, her eyes soft and her expression tender as she looked at the camera.

       He stared at the picture for a long time, before he turned to her, his eyes rimmed with red, and whispered, “That’s my Sookie.”

       She smiled at him, and he leaned over a little to kiss her gently.

_‘I love you.’_

       She closed her eyes and sighed, sinking down into the deep contentment of the bond. To be sure the sex was the greatest, but it was the moments of sweet intimacy that were the real bedrock of a relationship, and she and Eric had those moments down pat.

       Eric hummed and the vibration sent a little massage all along her side. She opened her eyes lazily and focused them back on the screen. They’d reached the first of the pictures taken at Fangtasia, the one of her on the couch in Eric’s office, topless, wearing her thigh highs, panties and shoes, and looking like she was just begging her bonded to come over and do something about the itch she couldn’t scratch by herself. Oh he’d scratched it all right. He’d scratched it but  ** _good_**.

       A surge of lust came across the bond, but they both held it in check, and Eric opened the next one – the one of her naked on Fangtasia’s bar with the 6-pack of TrueBlood.

       “I wish I could have this framed and put up in my office,” he sighed.

       “No way, buster.”

       “I know.”

       The next four were of her in the Fangtasia camisole and panties. They weren’t bad for an amateur photographer and an inexperienced model.

       “You could use those, though,” she compromised. She was fully covered and the poses were tasteful.

       “No doubt they would sell our clothing line,” he conceded.

       “Hey, it means something when the boss’s lady is willing to model the merchandise.”

       “Indeed. I may very well have a couple of these printed out and displayed on the counter in the gift shop.”

       “Put it next to the teaser pics for the new calendar,” she suggested.

       He chuckled. “Good idea.”

       Last they came to the images that had been taken in the den. They were dark and looked raw, but that only made them more sensuous.

       “Oh…” she breathed, her eyes opening wide as he opened the first picture of the two of them together, naked in the firelight.

       She was reminded of what the light had done to his hair that first night on Isle Elena, and later in the cabin after Maria’s performance when they had made love for the first time since Hallow’s curse was broken.

       Eric looked almost alive in the firelight. The flames were giving his skin a warm glow, and his hair was a golden halo about his head. Curled behind her, his arm possessively across her abdomen, his chin on her shoulder, he looked every bit the pillaging warrior. Even his eyes gleamed in the light.

       Her breath caught as they looked at the images because each one was more stunning than the last. The one of the two of them sitting up, his arms around her, their legs curled, was a picture of perfect affection, and the one of her sitting astride him, her thighs straining as her toes grabbed for purchase in the bear fur, was powerfully arousing. His arms were bent back, supporting the both of them as she placed the flats of her palms on the planes of his chest. His chin was raised, his eyes focused on her, his lips were parted and his fangs were down. His expression was hungry and needful, and he looked magnificent.

       The last image was the post-coital one with the two of them lying together, but facing opposite directions. Her skin glistened in the light from the sheen of sweat, her body relaxed and draped across the rug in a pose of complete ease and contentment. Eric had his cheek on her hip, his hair falling down to obscure her crotch, but the light from the fire was illuminating his golden locks from behind, making them shine. His face was beatific, a picture of perfect happiness.

       It was so beautiful, it choked her up, and a single tear ran down her cheek. Eric caught it with his finger and licked it from his knuckle, his eyes closing briefly in bliss.

       “I know you once told me that you wished you could save orgasms in a jar, but I wish I could feel the way I did when we took that picture all of the time,” he murmured. “In that moment, I was so happy, I would gladly have slaughtered anyone who had tried to disturb us.”

       “Well, gee, how romantic of you, you big Viking,” she said drolly, laughing softy.

       He smiled and kissed her. “That’s me. Would you like a severed head with your two dozen roses, my lover?”

       “Ah, no. But I’ll take the chopped heads of chocolate bunnies if you want to give me those.”

       He snickered and brushed her hair back with his fingertips. “You don’t want the heads of our enemies on a pike, but yet you want me to decapitate helpless chocolate rabbits.”

       “That sounds about right,” she deadpanned with a smile. Teasing him was such fun.

       He grinned, going with it. “You know that’s beneath me and a waste of my sword skills.”

       “The things we do for love.”

       That got a good laugh, and a kiss, from him, then he disassembled the card reader thingy from the laptop, closed the laptop and placed it on the bedside table; then he put the data card back into the camera and turned it on.

       “What are you doing?” she asked as he held the camera out at arm’s length and appeared to be trying to position it.

       “It’s only our second night in this bed. I want to commemorate it with a picture of the two of us.”

       “Since when did our snuggling become a Kodak moment?”

       He smirked. “This whole night has been a Kodak moment.”

       She snorted. “You just want an excuse to play with your new toy.”

       “I’d rather have an excuse to play with you,” he replied and took the picture while she was still snickering.

       He brought the camera close and turned it around, setting it to display the latest image. There they were, naked from the waist up with the rest of their bodies concealed by the bed covers, pillows piled behind them, and her snuggled up against his side with his arm around her. They both looked so very happy; Eric especially was simply beaming.

       “See? Picture perfect,” he told her, giving her a fond look.

       She stared into his blue eyes, peering into their ancient depths and certain she could see the soul so many narrow-minded fools insisted wasn’t there. She knew better.

       Gently she lifted the very expensive camera from his fingers, turned it off, and placed it beside the laptop on the bedside table, then she cradled his precious face in both of her hands and kissed him deeply.

        _‘Yes,’_  she agreed, letting his love wash over her.

       The pillows were all shoved to the side as his arms came around her, and he drew her down into picture perfect bliss.


End file.
